


You're my (arche)type

by evakuality



Series: Archetypes [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 137,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evakuality/pseuds/evakuality
Summary: When you're born into a world that tells you what you will be from the first moment you open your eyes, how easy is it to defy those expectations and become the person you'd rather be?  Even is a Beast and he's known for years that he needs a Beauty to keep him under control.  But he's yearned for a long time to be a different, better person, to defy the stereotypes and overcome his upbringing.  Unfortunately when he gets up the courage to go after something more, it's not as easy as he expects to go out and find it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking of doing something like this for a long time, but it's taken ages to get it into some sort of structure. If the rest of the plan carries on the way this one has then expect it to be really long and involved. I'm fascinated by the idea of nature vs nurture and how that plays out in society, but our own is too close for comfort so obviously I had to explore my own. In detail and at length.
> 
> Many many thanks to my beta readers; you're all great people who push me to do better.
> 
> Rating is likely to change as the story progresses, so check back on that later I guess.
> 
> Edit: so someone in the comments asked about the archetypes and I figured some links to the background ideas I got this from would be useful. Of course, because I didn't bookmark any of the really useful stuff, I can't find it again. I did find [this](http://fairies.zeluna.net/2013/06/fairy-tale-character-archetypes.html) which is one I stumbled on in that original journey. I adapated the idea of the Outcast from the 'Outcast Trickster Hero' here and from another site I can't currently find. Seers, Wise Men etc all came from a variety of places according to which ones I felt fit the characters best. Some are closer than others, and I twisted some together so none of it is exact. But I hope that gives some insight into some of where this came from. There is also some useful stuff [here](http://thewriterspot.weebly.com/miscellaneous/common-character-archetypes) \-- this is not one I came across before but it is useful. Substitute different names (eg 'Seer' for 'sage/mentor' and 'Beast' for 'monster') and you should get the picture.

It’s all bustle and chatter, noise and light, and Even can’t think.  He’s curled up in a ball under his blankets and refuses to get out of bed.  Sun is streaming through his blinds, voices and laughter ring out from the rest of the house, drawers clatter in the kitchen and it’s all too much.  Even wants to stay asleep.  All that awaits him if he’s awake is stress and anxiety.  He doesn’t want a bit of it, so it’s easiest if he stays here in his own little bubble.  There’s a thump as he hears the door bang against the wall.  He ignores it as hard as he can.  Footsteps approach, heels clipping against the hardwood floor, and Even groans internally.  Whoever it is isn’t likely to leave him alone.

“Even.”

The voice is insistent, but Even shuffles further down into his blankets.  Maybe if she doesn’t see him he can pretend he isn’t here, that he’s up and dressed and already headed to school.  It’s a childish thought, but he clings to it.  No such luck, though.  

“Even, you can’t do this. You have to get up.”

“Nope.” 

“Even, Sonja’s here.  She wants to see you before school.”

Her heels click again, the sound getting fainter as Even is left alone.  Soft voices drift back to him, and he can indeed make out Sonja’s tones now that he knows she’s in the house.

Sighing, Even rolls over.  If Sonja’s here, he really has no choice.  He either stays here until she comes in and cajoles, or even commands, until he gets up.  Or he sucks it up, drags his carcass out of bed and faces her like a man rather than hiding here like a child.  Grumbling, because his real choice would be to stay here, petulantly forcing Sonja to come to him and play the supportive girlfriend role, Even slides his legs over the edge of the bed and onto the cool floor.  He hears it too often to ignore it anymore: be a man.  Live up to your proper role.  The days when he rebels and acts as childishly as possible never go well, so he’s learned to give up trying.  Doing what’s expected is just easier.

Even’s not above taking his time, though.  He takes a shower that’s a few minutes too long, then spends an extra few seconds hunting through his wardrobe for something to wear.  He styles his hair slowly and deliberately, glaring at his own face in the mirror, then brushes his teeth thoroughly.  It’s all very petty and unlikely to accomplish anything in the long run, but he takes a savage pleasure in it anyway.

By the time he’s ambled out to the kitchen, Sonja is seated at the table with his mother.  She looks at home, her blonde hair glinting in the coppery light from the overhead lamp, and a steaming cup of coffee in her hands.  There’s another one sitting opposite her, and Even can smell the slight tang of the caramel he prefers wafting out of it.  He grimaces.  That’s the worst thing; Sonja is just so considerate of him.  Technically that should make him ecstatic.  His Beauty is so damn perfect and she fulfills her role with breathtaking compassion and genuine care.

But that’s the problem.  It’s a role.  Even’s sick of having to be looked after in this way, even though everyone assures him that he’s better off like this, that an untamed Beast is a menace and society needs these pairings to function properly. 

“Hi,” he says now as he moves towards her.  He presses a perfunctory kiss to her hair and watches as her face lights up at the caress.  He’s so fucking sick of it all. 

“Hey,” she says as he sits down.  Her voice is slightly too cheerful, her smile slightly too wide.  “You ready for school?” 

He shrugs, picking up the coffee and taking a large sip.  It’s perfect.  Of course.  The idea that Sonja is so attuned to his every need turns the taste to dust in his mouth.  He puts it down. 

“So,” his mother says, her voice matching Sonja’s for perkiness.  “New school, then.”

“Yeah,” Even says.   

He’s taking a smug satisfaction in their obvious discomfort, and in refusing to make easy small talk to relieve their feelings.  Because, fuck them.  They aren’t the ones who fucked up so badly they have to repeat a year of school.  They aren’t the ones who’re being sent to a new school ostensibly for a ‘fresh start,’ but so glaringly actually because the old school refused to take them back.  They aren’t the ones any of that is happening to, but even so they’re the ones walking on eggshells around him.  He’s sick of it.  Their constant careful approach to him is making the situation worse.  It hadn’t occurred to Even to be scared or unsure about this move until the two of them had started this falsely cheerful pep parade two weeks ago. 

“Better go then,” he says, standing up.

Both women reach their hands out towards him as they catch each other’s eyes.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Sonja says, frowning as she takes him in, eyes calculating as they drift over his appearance, snagging on the slightly scuffed shoes and the mismatched jacket and jeans.  Even hates how judged he feels whenever he’s with her.  “You know it’s not good for you to start the day without breakfast. 

She has a point, Even realises, though he’s reluctant to say it, hates that she’s always right.  He rolls his eyes instead and reaches for a banana 

“Happy?” he asks.

“Not particularly,” she says, her eyes narrowed and cautious as she looks up at him.  “You’re not yourself this morning.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to be nervous,” his mother joins in.  “It’s a long time since you’ve had to start new somewhere, and what with …” she stops abruptly, clearly realising she might be about to go too far.  She knows how sensitive he is about it.

_What with being a Beast and all, and bipolar on top of that_ , Even thinks.   _Yeah_.   

“I’m not going to tell them,” he says now, impulsively.  “They don’t need to know, not right away anyway.” 

“Honey …” Sonja starts. 

Her eyes are worried and she’s out of her seat and has a hand on his arm before he knows it.  Even has to physically resist shaking her off, his instincts all out of whack.  She’s supposed to be his comfort, so when did she become his irritation? 

She’s talking now, her voice low and urgent, trying to impress upon him the importance of her words.  But there’s no comfort in any of them.  “You know it’s not … not considered bad anymore, right?  Beasts are totally accepted, particularly among young people.  And you know, people are pretty welcoming when a Beast has a Beauty.” 

She sounds like she’s reciting something she’d learned by rote.  Probably is.  Even shrugs again.  “They don’t need to know.” 

Sonja’s face falls a little, but she nods.  “Okay.  It’s up to you.” 

She resumes her seat at the table and looks over at Even’s mother.  They tilt their heads and Even can almost hear the silent conversation happening.   _You should say something.  But he’s obviously not in the mood.  Yes but you’re a Beast too; you can help._  His mother nods slightly, then turns to him. 

“Even, honey.  Hiding isn’t … it’s not good for you.  I should know.”

“I know, I know.  Keeping it hidden was the worst thing that you ever did.  Blah blah, I’ve heard it.” 

“Even!” 

His mother’s voice is sharp, unhappy, and he shakes his head.   

“I’m sorry, Mamma,” he says.  He’d regretted it the instant he’d said it, the sour taste of the words sitting bitter on his tongue.  It’s not fair to take his unhappiness out on her. 

Fuck he hates it when he gets assholey like this.  He can never tell if he’s genuinely feeling like being a shit or whether his beastliness is coming to the fore again.  Most people assume it’s his beastly side, but Even prefers to think he has more control than that.  Of course, whenever he voices that particular opinion, people beam and say how wonderful it is that he has such an effective Beauty by his side to help regulate the rages. 

Said Beauty is still looking at him with concern.  She’s beautiful, even like this, and Even feels a pang as he looks at her.  He knows he loves her, and he’s profoundly grateful for the support she’s given him ever since his bipolar diagnosis, but she does feel cloying at times and he does wonder what life might be like if she wasn’t his Beauty and became just a friend.  It’s a vain thought, though.  No-one would accept a break up between such a perfect archetypal couple, so he’s stuck with her. 

Maybe one day he’ll meet another Beauty, one who won’t feel so overpowering, one who won’t make Even feel like he has to watch everything he says in case it triggers her protective instincts.  But in the meantime, there’s Sonja. 

Even offers both women in front of him an apologetic smile, then says, “I have to go now.  School …” 

They both nod, though both are still looking at him with concern.  “Okay, honey,” his mother says.  “Have a good time.  Learn something.” 

Even laughs, the first moment of levity he’s felt all day.  “I’ll try,” he says. 

He leans down to kiss Sonja again and watches her closely for signs of distress.  There are none apart from that still-present concern. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” he whispers in her ear, and she smiles up at him. 

“Be good to yourself,” she says.  “Have a good day.” 

As Even walks to the door and collects his bag and books -- all placed there by Sonja -- he can hear their muttered conversation behind him.  Try as he might to ignore it, he can still pick out some of the words, and the worry they express to each other makes him grit his teeth.  This could just be the shittest thing he’s ever had to do, and them acting like he’s simultaneously so fragile he might break if they’re not careful and so dangerous he might attack is not helping. 

Even wishes it could be different.  He wishes he could just be himself with none of these stupid expectations placed on him just because of how he happened to be born.  Maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to have something like that at Nissen.  He doesn’t have to tell anyone any of his secrets, and maybe if he keeps them to himself he has the chance at some sort of normal life, unfettered by society’s thoughts on who he must be and why he must be like that.  Not everyone shouts their type from the rooftops the minute they meet people, after all, so why should he?

With that positive thought in mind, Even’s walk to school is almost pleasant.  He builds an idea of what it might be like to enter the new school for the first time, and comes up with a plan.  He knows Sonja would tell him it’s an absurd one, which almost makes it better.  The pettiness burning in him should be cause for alarm, but it’s making him feel alive.  Or maybe it’s just distracting him from the terrifying knowledge that he’s going to be entering a new environment soon.  So he hatches the plan, ignoring the voice in his head that sounds like Sonja’s calm, reasoned thinking.  When he starts this new school, he’s going to be cool, suave, the man of mystery.  There will be no bumbling or fumbling, no hesitations, no self doubt.  Even is going to be truly cool.  For once in his life _he_ gets to decide how he will be perceived on first impression, and he’s damned if he won’t make the most of it. 

Accordingly he saunters into school, every hint of the bipolar kid who fucked up so badly he spiralled dizzyingly out of Bakka shoved as far down inside him as it can get.  There’s also no beastliness in sight, though that one’s harder.  It’s hard to keep the fear at bay, hard to stop himself from lashing out at the idiot who bumps into him as he enters the building.  The strong emotions, both positive and negative, are always heightened in new or stressful situations, and this is both.  Still, Even takes a deep breath, unclenches the fists that have unconsciously balled at his sides, and manages to prevent himself from flying off the handle, even if it’s a close run thing.  Instead, he stares over his sunglasses at the guy, who’s short enough to look intimidated as he stammers his apologies while gazing up at Even. 

Even’s charmed, and smiles in a way that seems to terrify the kid even more before he hurries out of the way.  Even thinks he might actually enjoy this more passive form of expressing his anger.  He’s never liked the feeling he gets when he yells or shouts, hates the impression of being out of control, and only really does it because it seems like that’s what people expect of him.  That’s how Beasts _are,_ he’s told over and over, so that’s what he lets himself do.  But this … this is interesting.  He can have as much of an effect on others (maybe even a bit more) with one well-timed look as he can with stamped feet and aggressive behaviour.  It’s a revelation.

His mood suddenly lighter, Even makes his way to the room he’s been directed to for sign in.  The conversation is boring and stultifying, filled with ‘I hope you’ll enjoy it here’ and ‘we’ll do what we can to make the transition smooth for you.’ It’s all tied up with an underlying deep-seated message which suggests they’re really thinking ‘are you going to explode and make life miserable here the way you did there?’   

Even’s disgruntled when he exits the room to make his way to his first class.  He bumps into someone else, and almost grinds out a curse before he remembers himself.  He has to remind himself not to do that anymore by muttering under his breath.  It works, after a long scary moment where Even thinks he might just snap after all. 

When he looks up, Even thanks his lucky stars that he didn’t say anything awful.  The boy in front of him is breathtaking, beautiful in a way that Even hardly ever sees outside of the TV shows his mother watches avidly.  His hair curls in golden waves on his forehead, his mouth is soft and perfect, and his eyes (in the brief glance Even is afforded) are a crystal green.  His jaw is both strong and curves enticingly down to a slender neck that disappears into an oversize t-shirt which shows off collar bones that are, frankly, lickable.  Even gasps at the thought.  What the fuck is he doing thinking about something like that? 

“Fuck, sorry,” the boy says as he ducks his head to avoid Even’s eyes.  His voice is rough, the words punching out quickly and somewhat perfunctorily.  It’s fucking gorgeous. 

“No problem,” Even says, allowing his eyes to crinkle a little as he looks at the boy.  The boy glances up quickly once, a small smile hovering on his lips before it’s swallowed into a grimace as he looks towards the door Even’s just vacated. 

“You’re done in there?” the boy asks, his focus still on the door.   

Even nods, then hums his assent as he realises the boy’s attention is not on his face.  Shrugging in discomfort, the boy brushes past Even.  His shoulder almost touches his own, and Even starts in surprise.  Even here, where people tend to be tall, it’s unusual to meet people that close to him in height, and it’s more endearing than it should be.  Even finds himself gazing after the boy long after he’s disappeared around the door.  He finally shakes himself and moves away.  His breath is still slightly rapid and his heart is racing.  If Even didn’t know better, he’d wonder if the boy is a Beauty.  Scratch that; he _doesn’t_ know better.  Boys can be Beauties too, after all.  It’s just Even’s natural assumptions, pushing against what he knows to be real, that suggests otherwise.  No-one has a better idea than Even exactly what male Beauties can be like.  His own father is one, and Even is very well acquainted with the kind of ethereal beauty they possess.  An ethereal beauty that this boy has in spades. 

Even groans as he slides into his seat in the classroom that’s first on his list, his thoughts forced away from the boy and his compelling looks and onto the work.  He’s covered most of it before, so he starts doodling irritably in his notebook to avoid losing his composure from sheer boredom.  The doodles all feature curling waves of hair and perfectly pursed lips, and Even’s annoyed with himself for doing this so soon after seeing the mystery boy.  He forces himself to concentrate on his work instead, trying to find something interesting in the drone of the teacher in front of him.  It’s _not_ interesting, but it’s safer than the direction he’s letting his mind drift in. 

The rest of the day is boring, but there are no mishaps.  Even never loses control and he mentally pats himself on the back.   _Take that, Mamma,_ he thinks.   _I’m perfectly capable of being fine by myself, and hiding being a Beast is not a bad idea_. 

Even’s aware that he’s possibly overthinking it, trying _too_ hard to convince himself.  Still, he can be proud that he’s doing okay.  It may be only the first day, but he’s successfully navigated the risky first impression and managed to keep himself calm and on track.  That’s more than anyone expected of him when he left home this morning, even if they all pretended that he would find it easy.  The stray thought that Sonja would take credit for this brushes up against his happiness, but he ignores it.  He determinedly leaves the building with that happiness intact, content in the knowledge that he’s not a fuck up.  Yet.

Even hears a laugh burst out of the courtyard to his left, and his eyes snap in that direction.  It’s him.  The mystery boy and some friends are chatting as they hang out, their laughter ringing around the small area as they push each other jokingly.  The beautiful boy throws his head back after saying something which clearly irritates the blond boy next to him, and the sound of his laughter carries to Even.  His face curls into a soft smile as he gazes at the group. 

He’s not sure why he finds the boy so compelling, but Even is entranced again.  The group wanders off and Even turns his head in the direction of his own home.  As he walks to his tram stop, Even ponders his attraction to the boy.  He’s almost certain the boy must be a Beauty; there’s no other reason why Even would be so attracted so fast.  It’s like a compulsion.  Archetypal attractions are usually speedy and overpowering; it was certainly that way back when he’d first met Sonja.  They’d burned hard and fast when they first got together before mellowing into a loving, mutually supportive affair.  It’s only lately that her support has started to feel like control, and Even has started to feel oppressed. 

Even knows he’s pansexual; that’s one aspect of his identity that has never been in question.  The problem has always been that society has never been particularly accepting of same-gender relationships.  They’ve always been frowned on, as somehow going against the natural order of the world.  The only time anyone ever accepts them is when they happen within archetypes.  That can happen and, while the pairings aren’t quite embraced as fully as different-gender couples, they’re definitely condoned.  You can’t argue with archetypes, after all, no matter who the two people within the relationships happen to be. 

That means that if the boy is a Beauty, then Even has a chance to get out of the stultifying relationship he’s settled into with Sonja (well, he does if the boy likes other boys anyway and can be persuaded to take on such a broken Beast).  Even could get to experience a different Beauty, and maybe this time he wouldn’t feel like he’s drowning under the weight of the expectations, under the force of the personality that seeks to control him so totally. 

Even knows it’s far too early to be thinking like this, he knows the boy has barely even acknowledged his existence.  But the idea is so heady.  He could maybe be able to breathe again, freely and on his own terms.  That’s always been the problem with Sonja.  She loves him, yes, but she loves him when he acts in a certain way and presents his passions in a way that pleases her.  She frowns so often when Even tries to do things his own way, and he can feel her silently judging his most passionate moments.  She has no patience for the days when he wants to run naked through the world, screaming his joy.  Metaphorically, of course; he’s never yet done that for real, though he’s been tempted occasionally when she’s been particularly rigid in her ideas. 

It’s starting to sink in for Even that he isn’t happy.  That this thing he has with Sonja isn’t as good as it used to be.  That he might want to be out of it.  But he needs a reason, an excuse.  He needs another Beauty, because without the calming influence of a Beauty, who knows what kind of fucked up shit Even might do next.  The memories of Bakka are still so fresh that Even can’t risk doing anything that might provoke him to something similar.  There’s too much at risk, and not just for him. 

By the time Even gets home, his thoughts are whirling.  He needs to find out more about this boy.  Who he is and, most importantly, Even needs to confirm his type.  He’s so obsessed with the idea of the boy being a Beauty that he needs to be sure.  If he’s not (he _must_ be, there’s no other possibility Even can accept, no other likely possibility) then Even has to know sooner rather than later.  The problem is that Even can’t think how he’s going to find out anything about the boy.  He goes to Nissen, and that’s about all Even knows about him.   

He’s still trying to think his way through how’s he’s going to discover more about the boy when he pushes the door open and hears the cheerful chatter of voices in the house.  Even grimaces.  Sonja’s here.  Of course; she’d never forgive herself if she wasn’t here to welcome him home after a day like this one.  She’s going to want to reassure herself that Even hasn’t done anything regrettable already today.  Even sighs and steels himself.  He throws his keys into the waiting basket on the sideboard as he walks in the door, then reluctantly makes his way to the kitchen.  

“Babe!”  

Sonja’s face is lit up and her smile is as beautiful as ever.  She slides out of her chair and comes over to him.  Her kiss is sweet and loving, and Even can feel himself relaxing a little as she drapes her hands over his shoulders and pulls him to her in a long, comforting hug.  She knows exactly when a hug is what he most needs, and it humbles Even how she knows him so well, even through his most irritated moments.  He slips his own arms around her and draws her in, burying his nose in her neck and breathing in her scent. 

“How was school?” she asks, pulling back and cocking her head to the side.  She gazes up at him, all her loving concern in her eyes. 

“It was fine,” he says, smiling at her out of habit, feeling that old fondness she always inspired.  It’s in moments like these, when he’s not already irritable, that Even remembers all the reasons why he loves her.  “Nothing new really.” 

“Did you make any friends?”   

His mother this time, curious as always.  Even holds back a sad snarl, though.  There hasn’t been _time_ to make friends and she should know that.  It’s only been a day and most of that time was spent corralled in classrooms with people who all knew each other already and had absolutely zero interest in the new guy.  The only possibility is the boy, and Even doesn’t even know what year he’s in.  But then his breath catches as he remembers seeing something from the corner of his eye and not realising what it was until now.  So he shakes his head and looks at his mother over Sonja’s shoulder. 

“No.  But I think I saw Sana.  I forgot she goes to Nissen.”  He smiles a little in reminiscence.  “Maybe I’ll try to catch up with her tomorrow.” 

Because what he’d seen, and not really registered, was that Sana had nodded to the boy as they were leaving the courtyard and he had saluted her back.  So Even knows she knows him.  He has a slight in, and he’s going to use it, even if that means he has to dredge up a little of the mess that overtook him last year. 

His mother’s face reflects her worries about that idea, but she nods.  “That’ll be nice,” she says, her face still and her voice carefully neutral.  “Tell her hello from me.” 

Sonja drops her arms and sits back down at the table.  Even follows, trying to discuss the day he’s had as naturally as possible.  It’s hard for him to focus because his attention is so thoroughly on the boy.  He glances over at Sonja, seated beside him with her hand on his leg and talking animatedly with his mother.  Guilt hits him.  What is he doing?  Thinking of this boy while he’s sitting here with his girlfriend, the person who has supported him through so much over the last two years.  The person he still loves, even if she irritates him sometimes.  It shames him, and he refocuses on her, sliding his own hand on top of hers and squeezing gently.  She rewards him with a bright smile and he feels love blooming again in his heart. 

It doesn’t last.  By the next day Even’s attention is all on the boy again.  He’s on hyper alert from the moment he walks into school.  His fingers itch, and his feet are restless with the need he has to spot either Sana or the boy, but unfortunately there’s no sign of either of them before school starts for the day.  Even tries to push the disappointment aside; he knew this was possible, likely even.  But despite it all, he feels the bubbling of red hot fire in his veins again.  He forces himself to take slow calming breaths, regulating them into some sort of order as he takes in what the teacher is saying.  The fires diminish as Even talks himself into a sense of perspective.  He’s got all day, after all.  The boy isn’t going to dissolve if Even doesn’t learn about him right this minute.   

The thought is enough to sustain him through to the first break of the day, and then as if his patience has been rewarded, Even spots Sana.  She’s banging on her locker, a scowl on her face as if it’s done something to offend her.  Even smiles, affection seeping into his gaze.  He’s missed her, and he only now realises how much.  He wanders up to her. 

“Sana.” 

She starts, spinning around to face him, her eyes going wide as she takes in who it is. 

“Even!  Wow.  What … what are you doing here?” 

“Transferred,” is all Even says.  Despite the brief flutter of fear he feels at her words, he finds he’s not ashamed to say it.  That’s some sort of progress, right? 

She squints up at him, then purses her lips and nods.  She says nothing more and Even closes his eyes in wry appreciation that she’s a Seer so she understands things faster and more easily than others do. 

“You want to talk to me.”

She says it with certainty, another hint that her type is strong in her and she is in full control of all that comes with it.  Seers always know when people need them for something.  It makes them both very restful to be with and infuriating to talk to.  Even so, Even nods.  His eagerness to discuss the boy thrums through him, but he also knows it’s impossible to push Sana and that if you try to force it she just gets more vague and opaque, and is far more likely to put things off. 

She gives him another considering look.  “Lunchtime then.  At the seats out back.”

Even has no idea where that is or how to find it, but she grins up at him as if she knows that, then turns and leaves.  It feels like some sort of test to Even (fucking Seers!)  He guesses he’s going to be asking some people if they know how to find the spot she’s referring to.  Because if there’s one thing Even knows for sure it’s that nothing is going to stand in the way of that meeting.   

He’s breathless by the time he gets to her.  It turned out to be harder than he’d expected to find the place.  Sana is there looking cool and collected, and Even feels instantly on the back foot.  He’s unkempt, his hair drooping and his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably.  He nods at her wryly as he sits down next to her.

“I was trying to be cool, you know, impress people at my new school with my suaveness.” 

Sana laughs.  “And how’s that going for you?” 

He shrugs.  “Apparently, wearing sunnies and walking slowly makes people believe that.” 

He ignores his appearance, and what he’d been trying to say.  Sana, bless her, allows him to deflect.   She snorts and pushes against him with her shoulder.  “Easily impressed then.” 

“Oi!” he says, mock anger in his voice.  “I’m actually really cool.”

The look she throws him is distinctly unimpressed.  “You forget I’ve known you for years,” she says.

He shrugs again, smiling naturally.  He blesses her again, this time for her ability to set people at ease.  They sit there for a few moments before she speaks. 

“You want to tell me what this is all about?” 

“It’s a boy.” 

“A boy,” she repeats dubiously.  “That doesn’t sound like something you need to talk with me about.” 

“You know him.” 

“Oh.”  There’s understanding starting to seep into her voice.  “Who is it?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Even can feel the frustration feeding into him again, and once again he acknowledges it and then forces it away.  It’s so hard not to react the ‘expected’ way, but Even’s determined.  He’s not going to be that Beast who rages and fumes whenever things don’t go right for him.  Not anymore. 

“But you know I know him?” 

“Yeah.  I saw you with him yesterday.”  Even’s voice goes wistful as he adds, “he’s beautiful.”  Even can tell he’s got Sana’s full attention, and he blushes.  It feels weird to talk about this stuff, but he needs to.  The compulsion to know more is building.  “Blond hair, soft mouth, grumpy expression.” 

“‘Grumpy expression’?  That’s how you define beauty?” 

“It works for him,” Even says, and cringes internally.  Where the fuck did that come from?  He’s worse off than he thought if he’s already saying stuff like this out loud to other people. 

Sana stares into the distance for a moment before she glances back at him.  “You mean Isak?” she says eventually, as if she’d asked the universe for help and the universe had come back with some answer she’s dubious about. 

“I don’t know,” Even says.  “I saw him outside the principal’s office yesterday, then later after school.” 

“Hmmm, probably Isak then.  He’s the only one I know who’s likely to have been with the principal this early.” 

Even feels a thrill as he hears it.   _Isak._  It feels right; the name fits the boy he saw yesterday.  But then it all crashes down.  Sana looks at him in a considering way. 

“But why are you interested in an Outcast?  You’re a Beast, right?” 

His heart sinks.  An Outcast?  An anti-hero, a misfit.  Of all the types, Outcasts are the most likely to stick to type.  They pair with other Outcasts or remain alone.  He’d been so sure Isak was a Beauty; how could he be something else? 

“Outcast?  Are you sure?” 

Sana rolls her eyes.  “Even, please.  I’m a _Seer;_ I know.  Besides, he’s not shy of letting people know.  He’s pretty proud of it.”

“Are you sure it’s the same guy?” 

She nods in the direction of the school.  “That’s him there,” she says. 

Even looks over and grimaces.  It _is_ him, the beautiful boy from yesterday.  His hair is caught under a snapback today and there’s a pout on those perfect lips, but it’s unmistakably the same guy.  He’s still beautiful, in a way that makes Even’s breath catch again.  But it’s tempered now by the knowledge that he’s basically unattainable.  It doesn’t matter if Isak likes other boys or not because he’s not for Even.  Even if he were going to move out of archetype, and Even’s convinced that’s a terrible idea, then an Outcast would be his last choice.  Outcasts are unpredictable and moody; there’s no way any Outcast could ever be what Even needs to keep himself in check. 

Sana’s looking at him with a certain amount of sympathy.  “You didn’t know?” 

Even shakes his head, rueful.  “No.  But it doesn’t matter.  I have a Beauty anyway, and she’s everything I need.” 

“Mmmmm,” Sana says.  “But not everything you want.” 

Even looks away, careful not to meet her eye.  He’s not ready to admit that to anyone just yet, particularly someone he’s been so distanced from for so long.  It’s so easy here with her to forget all that happened to separate their lives.  But it’s sitting there between them now, so he clears his throat and changes the subject. 

Attuned to mood as she always is, Sana lets him.  But he knows it’s not going to be allowed to rest forever, and the thought turns him cold.   

As if their conversation has conjured him, Isak comes over to speak to Sana.  Even barely registers their interaction, as focused as he is on Isak.  From what he gathers it’s all Biology and banter and they clearly have a close, if bickery, bond.  He smiles fondly, then shakes himself as Isak turns his eyes on him.  They’re less dark in this light and there’s a sparkle illuminating them from within.  Even feels himself blushing and forces himself to look away.  It’s incredible to him that this beautiful person isn’t a Beauty.  He has all the attributes, and even now, even when Sana’s _told_ him Isak’s an Outcast, Even still can’t quite bring himself to believe it.  He tries to draw the lines of an Outcast on top of Isak’s features and fails, the Beauty still sits there. 

“See you ‘round, Sana,” Isak says as he walks away.  His eyes catch Even’s again as they part and Even thinks he sees something resembling interest there.  He’s sure his own eyes betray him as well, so he drags them away and reminds himself that there’s no future in this. 

Sana gives him a long, questioning look once Isak has disappeared into the distance.  Even shakes his head, a silent request that she drop it.  Sana takes the hint and the conversation veers once more into neutral territory. 

The rest of that week drags, the days seemingly endless.  Even knows it’s his own fault, and he kicks himself.  How did he let one small interaction affect him this badly?  He let himself believe for one shining day that Isak could be a Beauty, that there could be something there and that Even could be saved from the disaster his life is currently.  That’s not fair, and he knows it.  In his most comfortable moments, Even’s even able to admit that ‘disaster’ is a big word for a life that’s just a bit boring and meaningless.  That the discomfort and dissatisfaction he feels isn't representative of some huge deficiency, that he really should just suck it up and make the most out of everything he has. 

On paper, it looks like he has it all.  He’s recovered from a major traumatic stress a little less than a year earlier, he has supportive parents, a wonderful girlfriend and a new start in a place where hardly anyone knows him and no-one judges him.  He was lucky enough to find a compatible Beauty at a young age, and so has ridden out a lot of the problems sometimes associated with being a Beast.  If Even were looking at it objectively, he’d say he’s a pretty lucky guy.  The problem is he’s _not_ objective.  He’s miserable, and no amount of chirpy self-talk is going to change that. 

Even sees Isak around school a lot, and it’s much harder than it should be.  He can’t help the way his eyes snag on the boy, or the way his heart speeds up as he notices some new beautiful quirk.  The way Isak rolls his eyes when he hears something stupid makes Even’s heart flip in his chest.  The way his mouth quirks when he’s delivered a sarcastic blow to one of his friends causes swoops in Even’s belly.  It’s infuriating.  Isak’s an Outcast, he doesn’t know Even exists and even if he did there’s no possible hope of a future.  Yet, he still represents everything that Even doesn’t have but wants.  Sana was right.  His life on paper has everything he needs, but he yearns for more.  He wants more.  He knows he should stop this, that Isak is a person not a symbol and it’s not right to use him to represent all that Even misses in his life.  But he can’t help it; his eyes turn that direction every time he catches even a hint of the boy’s voice. 

So he thinks he’s dreaming on Friday when he hears that voice among the chatter of those entering the tram as he’s on his way home.  The squeak of shoes on the flooring, and the squeal of machinery as the tram moves off again hide the soft murmurs of the voices that had entered, and Even tells himself it was just his imagination.  He keeps his eyes on the floor, knowing that he really needs to focus, he needs to get Isak out of his thoughts.  If he’s imagining Isak in places where he isn’t, then none of the things Even’s feeling are helpful.   

“Oh, halla.” 

Even freezes.  That genuinely sounds like Isak’s voice right by his ear.  He looks up and his heart clenches.  Isak’s right there in front of him, holding the handrail and smiling in a neutral but welcoming way. 

“Hey,” Even says as soon as he manages to get his voice. 

“You’re new right?  I saw you on the first day?  Near the principal’s office?”

“Yeah.”  Even relaxes a little.  “That was me.” 

“I’m Isak,” he says. 

“I know.”   

Isak’s eyes widen, and Even gulps.  “I mean … hi, I’m Even.” 

Isak laughs as he takes the hand Even has stretched out to him.  Even’s simultaneously charmed and horribly embarrassed.  What the hell has gotten into him? 

“So, you know who I am?” 

Even coughs, knowing his cheeks are red.  “Yeah.  Uh, I know Sana and she kind of gave me a run down on the people she knows.” 

He didn’t add that he’d seen Isak that day he spoke to Sana; it’s too revealing to admit that he’s catalogued every moment he’s ever seen Isak.  Isak’s eyes widen a little. 

“Oh,” he says. 

Is it Even’s imagination, or is there a flicker of something disappointed in Isak’s eyes as he drops them to look intensely at the floor for a moment? 

There’s silence between them for a moment, and Even feels all the awkwardness. Isak’s turned to look out the window at the passing streets and Even takes the opportunity to study him.   He wonders how he ever imagined this boy could be a Beauty, now that he’s able to take a proper stocktake.  Oh, he’s still very attractive, and looking at him still makes things flip uncomfortably in Even’s chest, but there’s an edge to him that a Beauty certainly wouldn’t possess.  No Beauty would so confidently approach a stranger; they tend to leave it to the Beasts to approach them.  No Beauty would stand like that, taking up space as if they were masters of their little world.  Outcasts, on the other hand, have a ‘fuck you’ attitude and do whatever they like; there’s a certain freedom in being on the margins, after all.  Even wonders wistfully what that might be like, not to be expected to fly off the handle every time something goes wrong.  But then, there are probably things about being an Outcast that are just as hard.  No type is ever perfect. 

Eventually, Isak shuffles his feet and glances at Even, who smiles, then coughs as he desperately tries to hide his growing discomfort at being caught staring.  A voice announces the next stop and Even realises with a start that it’s his. 

“I get off here,” he says. 

“You do?”  Isak’s eyebrows rise in surprise and he grins.  “I do too.” 

Even manages to prevent himself from asking why he’s never seen Isak here before, and grins back.  They exit together, and Even turns to him once again.

“I’m going that way.” 

He points down the road towards his house.  He expects Isak to move away, but instead he falls into step beside him.  Even’s breath catches in his throat before he can stop it.  Today’s already been a thousand times more exciting than every other day this week, which given the banality of the conversation is a little pathetic.  He’s not sure why Isak is here or why he seems to want to know him better, but Even’s not above making the most of the situation. 

“You … uh.  You don’t usually come on this tram?” 

“No.”  Isak’s face falls a little and he looks away briefly before directing a glowing smile at Even.  “I had some stuff to do, but …” 

“But?” 

“I just got a text cancelling.” 

He holds his phone up in explanation, and Even nods.  He hadn’t noticed any messages but then he’d been so caught up in Isak that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if someone had sent him a singing telegram. 

“That’s too bad.” 

Even lets the silence sit between them for another moment before he jumps in.  It’s best if he doesn’t seem too overeager, after all. 

“You don’t want to hang out a bit?” he asks eventually.  “Not to be weird or anything, but my mother keeps asking if I’ve made any friends yet.  You’d be doing me a favour if you come in for a bit, get her off my back.” 

“Oh, so you’re a Damsel and you need me to save your ass?” 

His voice is gentle, and his laugh genuine without a hint of judgement at the idea.  Even laughs.  “Something like that.” 

If he hadn’t already been enamoured with Isak, that comment would have done it.  The casual acceptance that boys can be Damsels, that it’s not something to be ashamed of.  It’s a flimsy thing to hang his hopes on, but maybe one day Even will be able to tell Isak about his own type if he really is as understanding as he seems. 

Isak follows him inside.  Freshly made coffee sits on the counter and his mother’s cheerful voice drifts to them from the laundry where she’s singing slightly out of tune.  There’s a rustle then a solid thump as the washing machine’s lid falls into place, then Even’s mother appears around the doorway. 

“Oh, Even.  I just made some …” 

She stops, her eyes widening as she takes in Isak standing behind Even in the kitchen. 

“Mamma, this is Isak.  He’s um … a friend.  From school.” 

He feels almost guilty as her face blooms in delight and she hurries over to them. 

“Hello.  Isak, was it?  You’re very welcome.” 

Before she can pull him into a hug, Even intervenes.  Isak’s face reflects anxiety and Even can feel the waves of stress coming off him.

“Okay, so we’re going to go listen to music.  Thanks for the coffee, Mamma.” 

Pulling Isak behind him, Even scoots out the door and down the hallway.  He thinks he hears an aborted comment behind him, but he ignores it.   

When they’re safely in his bedroom, Even shuts the door firmly.  He leans his head on it briefly before sucking in a deep breath and turning to Isak. 

“I’m sorry about her,” he says.  “She can get a bit intense.” 

“That’s okay.” 

Isak has regained his composure, now absorbed in the pictures Even has stuck to his wardrobe door.  Even tries to keep his heart rate even and his breathing calm.  He’d forgotten that this might happen, and yet here they are.  Isak is in his room and he’s seeing the innermost parts of who Even is.  Shards of fear stab at him; there are things on that door that hint at the darkness Even hides inside him and the idea that Isak is judging them is terrifying.  Even traces the lines of Isak’s face as he takes everything in. To his relief, Isak remains engaged and interested, curious without looking disgusted.  Eventually he smiles and looks over at Even. 

“Did you do these?” 

“Yeah,” he says, letting out the breath he’d been holding and allowing himself to relax. 

“They’re good,” Isak says.  “You have an interesting style.” 

“You like art?” 

Isak shakes his head.  “Not really.  But yours seem … I dunno, a bit personal?  Like they mean something.” 

That’s just fucking doing it for Even.  Isak doesn’t like art but he likes Even’s because they mean something?  He can’t help the comparisons with Sonja, who smiles politely at what he does and says how nice it is that he has an outlet.  Inviting Isak here was all sorts of bad ideas, and yet Even can’t bring himself to regret it. 

Knowing this is an even worse idea, Even pulls out a joint.  Sonja would not approve, and Even knows this probably isn’t good for him.  He knows that smoking just makes his bipolar stuff more volatile, but the other side of that is that it mellows out the Beast.  He’ll take his chances, since it’s imperative that he stay calm around Isak.  Not letting anyone know he’s a Beast is still top priority.  Sonja’s right; people don’t care so much anymore, but there’s still the lingering fear and the worry that things will change if it comes to light.  Particularly if the Bakka stuff rears its head as well. 

Isak’s face lights up as he sees the joint in Even’s hand.  The slightly tense lines that had been sitting around his lips smooth out and he grins.  Even has to swallow against the lump that jumps into his throat at the beauty in that smile.  To cover, he pulls out his lighter and slides onto the windowsill next to his ashtray.  He nods at the other side and Isak takes the hint. 

His head leans back against the glass pane and he sighs.  Even follows the movements of his hands as they reach for the joint.  Electricity burns through his fingertips as they brush over Isak’s in the transfer. 

This whole thing is fucking with Even's mind.  He knows Isak isn't a Beauty, and yet he's drawn to him the way he's always expected to be drawn to Beauties.  It’s making him dazed and confusing him a little, though that may just be the effects of the weed hitting him.  Or there’s always the possibility that his mind’s fucking with him again, that this attraction he feels is just part of his rejection of the status quo and everything Sonja represents.  He shakes the thought off, doesn’t want to marr what he has here. 

It’s mostly silent as they pass it between them, the only sound the distant clatter of dishes in the kitchen and the soft blur of the music Even has playing in the background.  Nas is mellow and light in a way that seems to fit the moment.  Isak turns his eyes to Even’s and allows his lips to twitch upwards slightly. 

“This is nice,” he says finally on a soft sigh. 

“Mmmmm,” Even agrees.  “Weed’s always nice.” 

“Yeah.  But it’s also nice to talk to someone more like me.  Good company is nice.”  Isak turns his intense gaze on Even again and he feels a shiver whip through him.  There’s more in that comment than Even’s used to hearing, something sitting behind the words.  He’s probably just imagining it, though, and tries to hide it in his next words.. 

“Your company isn’t usually nice?” 

Isak turns back to the window, and his voice when he finally speaks is soft and more insecure than he’s been at any point so far this afternoon. 

“I mean, it is.  But …” he glances back at Even.  “There are always all these expectations.” 

“I feel that.” 

He can feel Isak’s curious eyes on his face, and so he keeps his eyes fixed studiously out the window.  There’s a small bird pecking at the bark on the tree opposite and Even finds himself fixated on its jumpy, frenetic movements. 

“There are expectations for you, too?” Isak asks, eventually. 

Even lets himself meet Isak’s eyes.  “Always,” he whispers.  It feels like a confession deeper than it seems on the surface.  And maybe there’s something in that.  Here in a place where smoke billows around them like incense in a church, it feels like a confessional.  It feels like Even can tell Isak all his sins and have them absolved. 

Isak drags his eyes away after an infinity.  “Expectations suck.” 

Silence sits between them again and it should feel awkward.  It shouldn’t be easy to be with someone you’ve only had one conversation with, and yet it’s not. 

“I like it with you,” Isak says a few minutes later.  “You’re restful.  Not wanting me to prattle away and fill every moment with meaningless words.” 

Even shrugs.  “Never saw the point in talking for the sake of it.” 

Isak laughs, his eyes softening and delight blooming on his face.  “See.  You get it.”  He sighs, looking into the distance again.  “Meeting people in your archetype is so hard, so it’s good when it happens.” 

Even’s heart stutters.  Does Isak mean what he thinks he means?  Because if so, Even should really say something.  Even knows he really should tell Isak the truth, but it’s still so difficult to let other people in.  There’ve been too many who have treated him differently when they found out for him to be entirely comfortable opening up to someone new.  Particularly if Isak has certain expectations around what type Even is.  If Isak really does think Even’s also an Outcast, then it would explain so much of the way this has fallen out, the speed with which Isak appears to have trusted him.  That thought makes Even feel guilty again.  He really shouldn’t let Isak continue with this notion that they’re the same, that something could happen between them.  It’s not fair, not when he knows the truth.  Even’s opening his mouth to speak, but he’s been so caught up in the conversation that he misses the first warning signs of someone’s approach, so he jumps in fright as the door bangs against the wall with a crash that reverberates through the enclosed space. 

“Dinner’s ready, Even,” his mother says as she enters.  Her nose wrinkles as she smells the lingering scent of the weed they’ve been smoking but she doesn’t mention it. Not immediately anyway.  Even knows it’s for Isak’s benefit; she may be a little more liberal than most when it comes to these things (she’s a Beast, too, and knows how it works, after all), but she’d still usually bring it up in disapproval.  Even making a new friend and bringing him home has tempered her natural inclinations, for which he is thankful.  Her expression as she nods at Even promises a chat about it later, however, and he groans internally. 

“Okay, Mamma.  I’ll be there shortly.” 

“Are you going to stay, Isak?” 

Her face softens noticeably as she turns to him, but Isak doesn’t seem to be paying much attention. 

“Oh, uh.  No.  I’d better get home.  My flatmates will be wondering what happened to me.” 

Flatmates?  Even’s pretty sure there must be a story behind that, but Isak’s pushing himself down off the windowsill and gathering his things so Even puts his curiosity aside and walks with him to the door. 

“Thanks for coming.  You may have picked up that my mother was delighted.” 

Isak laughs and pats his arm, sending waves of heat through him and turning his mouth dry.  “She seems like she’s going to give you some grief over that smoking.” 

Even shrugs again to stave off the absurd delight he feels because Isak _noticed_ that.  “Nothing I can’t handle,” he says as Isak steps outside. 

He watches as Isak starts to walk away, admiring the way the late sunlight gleams on his hair, before realising he’s going to look like a huge creeper if Isak turns back for any reason.  So he gently pushes the door closed and turns to face his mother.

She’s back in the kitchen, bustling about, and his father is setting the table.  The clicking of the cutlery as he places it carefully drifts through from the other room and it mingles with the spicy scent of the stew on the stove.  Even can feel himself relaxing, and he’s fairly sure it’s not because of the weed.  Or not just the weed.  There’s something so nice in being with his parents like this.  Of everyone, they’re the ones who love him unconditionally and when it’s just them in their small family unit Even can feel at peace.  Even with the upcoming conversation looming, it feels like home. 

“Isak seems nice,” his mother says as he comes up next to her and gets plates out of the cupboard. 

Even nods and turns to go into the next room, but his dad is suddenly there and takes the plates out of his hands.  His parents exchange glances and again Even can read their silent conversation.   _Did you talk to him yet?  No, I was just about to.  Well get it over with so we can eat in peace._  

Even sighs.  “I know, Mamma,” he says as his father leaves the room again and she opens her mouth.  “You don’t like it when I smoke.  But I’m nineteen …” 

His mother huffs and rolls her eyes to the sky.  “We just worry.” 

“I know.  I know, but it’s my life.”

“My house.”

She’s frowning, clearly trying to find the right words to get through to him, and Even throws his hands up.  “Okay fine.  I won’t do it at home again, but it’s my decision if I do or not.” 

His mother sighs and he can read her expression.  She’s longing for Sonja to be here and calm Even down.  The idea angers him; he can feel the fires starting to surge through him.  It takes far too much effort to tamp them down this time.  He’s left breathing heavily and shaking when it’s all over.  His mother is looking at him with concern.  He shakes his head a little. 

“I’m sorry, Mamma.  You’re right.  It’s your house and I know you don’t like it.  It’s just …” 

He can’t bring himself to say it, but she gathers him into a hug anyway.  “It’s okay, Even.  You don’t have to worry.  Being a Beast is nothing to be ashamed of.  You don’t need to suppress it, not like this.” 

There’s so much love and care in her voice, and Even allows himself to relax into her embrace, tucking his head into her shoulder and sighing.  He knows intellectually that she’s right, but it’s so hard to accept.  He’s been through too much, heard too many yelled obscenities aimed at his type, to feel easy being himself.   

“Come on, let’s eat,” she says, pulling back to smile at him gently.   

He lets her lead him into the dining room, and stays as relaxed as he can while they eat.  He knows they care, he knows they’re just trying to do the best thing for him, but he can’t stop the anxiety that courses through him. 

The tension he’d thought he’d hidden was obviously very close to the surface, because by the time they’re about to eat dessert there’s a forceful knock at the door, and his parents exchange guarded glances.  His mother pushes back from the table and click-clacks her way to the entryway.  Even can hear soft voices muttering in concern even from this distance and he raises his eyebrows at his father who smiles, a little rueful twist of his lips.  Even feels his shoulders slumping. 

He manages to drag a welcoming smile onto his face by the time Sonja arrives around the corner with his mother close behind.  She slides into the seat next to him and gives him a welcoming peck.  She looks at him expectantly, but he refuses to give in to it, and it takes a few seconds before his mother speaks up, her voice filled with an artificial cheerfulness. 

“So, Sonja.  How’s your work going?” 

Sonja jumps on the offered conversation starter, and Even sits next to her, pushing his dessert around his plate and scowling.  The three others make pleasant conversation but he spitefully keeps out of it, despite knowing that this is going to make things worse for him in the end.   

Sure enough, once the plates are all cleared away and his parents are settling down in the lounge, Sonja yawns, with an exaggerated stretch to accompany it.  She smiles at Even and pats his hand. 

“I’m exhausted, babe.  You want to head to your room?” 

Even can’t help but compare the way her touch feels on his with Isak’s just a few hours earlier and he has to repress a shudder.  He smiles at her, however, and agrees with as much grace as he can muster.  Whatever she wants to say, it’s better to get it over with than to let it fester. 

“You feeling okay?” she asks delicately as she drops onto his couch once they’re alone in his room. 

“I’m fine.” 

He’s deliberately short with her; takes some sort of pleasure in forcing her to say the actual words, unwilling to make this easier for her.  It’s petty, it’s so petty, and yet he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Even,” she says, sighing softly and holding her hand out.  “You can’t keep doing this; it’s not good for you.” 

“I’m _fine,_ ” he repeats, stubbornly ignoring the outstretched hand and instead perching against his windowsill.  It reminds him forcibly of Isak and he has to shut his eyes against the memories. 

“You’re not fine, though.  Look at you; you’re not yourself right now.” 

“Look, Sonja, I know you mean well, but I already talked about it with Mamma and it’s sorted.  You don’t need to analyse me.” 

She rolls her eyes irritably.  How can Isak’s eye rolls be so endearing, and Sonja’s so infuriating?   

“I’m not analysing you,” she declares and Even huffs out an incredulous laugh.  How can she not see what she’s doing?  But then, she never really has seen, and he’s always just gone with it.  It’s not her fault that he’s not keeping to her usual script anymore.  He groans, moves from the window and comes to sit next to her. 

“Let’s not fight,” he says.  “Let’s just go to bed and just forget all this for now.” 

She lets him distract her, and the next hour passes pleasantly enough.  Even still finds her extremely attractive, of course, and he still finds it easy to let himself get lost in the sensations of being with her, in her hands on him.  He’s never been comfortable with the expectations around intimacy when it comes to the Beast type, but he enjoys sex anyway.  He knows he’s supposed to dominate in bed, be the one to take control and be in command.  It’s supposed to be the payoff for Beasts; the Beauties keep their Beasts calm and tame in general life, and the Beasts dominate during sex, and yet it’s never sat right with Even.  It doesn’t come naturally to him to take what he wants in a show of strength and aggression, and Sonja’s preferences are the only reason why he even attempts something resembling that idea, as weak and pale as his attempts are.  He’ll still do what he can to make her happy, but even so he’s never been truly what people expect when they think of Beasts in bed.     

Romantic movie after romantic movie show Beasts being aggressive and domineering, overpowering their Beauties’ hesitations with shows of power.  The idea makes Even feel ill, and he’d rather act like the Charmings: be respectful and gentle, turning sex into an equal partnership.  Thankfully, Sonja humours him and he’s never had to actually use force.  But she likes it rough, and Even has to hold his romantic side in check until they’re done.  Then she lets him pull her into him and cuddle her as much as he likes.  It’s a compromise, and he’s grateful for it. 

Tonight, though, when she presses her lips to his and settles in to sleep, it’s not her arms that he imagines surrounding him.  Guilt overtakes him as Isak’s face slips into his mind.  Sonja sighs out her contentment as her body softens into sleep, and all Even can think about is another boy.  It’s enough to shame him, so he pulls her closer and kisses her hair, trying desperately to push all other thoughts away.  There’s still no future with an Outcast, no matter how drawn Even is to him, and so Even needs to keep Sonja happy; he needs to find the joy in this again.  She’s all that stands between him and failure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided on a whim to get into this tumblr business, so you can now find me on [my brand new tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/evakuality) Please come and say hi; it's a sad depressing little wasteland at the moment and I need friends and people to follow.

Eyes slide towards Even whenever he enters the school, his sunglasses perched on his nose and his hair styled in just the right way to say ‘I have it made and I’m so much better than you’ without also saying ‘I’m a huge douche.’  It’s taken a while for Even to perfect that image, get exactly the right amount of casual suaveness, but it’s had the desired effect.  Everyone now thinks he’s cool.  Awed whispers follow him wherever he goes, and it’s not hard to notice the admiring female attention he gets as he strolls the halls.  Excited giggles burst out, and they turn in what they clearly think is a subtle circle to follow his progress through the halls.

It’s refreshing.  No-one scowls as he approaches, no-one twists out of the way if he walks too close, and no-one’s conversation stutters to a halt when he enters a room.  Or at least they don’t stop because they’re scared of him; these days any silence that greets him is accompanied by wide eyes and admiring glances.  He doesn’t, in short, have to live with the stigma of being a Beast.

Even allows himself to relax, at least a little.  He thinks, wistfully, that maybe this time he really has managed to make a new start.  Intellectually he knows that there hasn’t been enough time for people to really see, and identify, the mannerisms of a Beast, but he’s still so relieved whenever the attention he gets is pleasant.  It’s a wake up call, of sorts, making Even realize just exactly how oppressive it is to be a Beast, to be judged at all times.  Not that he hasn’t felt all the weight of that oppression hanging over his head in the past, but it’s never been so viscerally apparent as it is now that it’s missing.

He rounds a corner and stumbles as he realises who he’s bumped into.  Literally.

“Hey,” he says, allowing his affection to bleed into his voice, despite his reservations.

Isak’s face lights up in a blinding smile, his eyes flicking up to Even’s and his body instantly relaxing.  Even’s heart does another of those annoying flips, and his breath catches yet again.  It’s actually irritating how much those eyes affect him with their long lashes and the amusement hidden in their depths.

“Hi,” Isak says.  His cheeks take on a red tinge as he drags his gaze away from Even’s.  “Did … uh.  Did your mother get really angry the other day?”

“Huh?”

Even’s been too caught up in studying the small mole above Isak’s lip to pay attention, so it takes a second or two for the words to filter through to his brain.  He feels his own cheeks heating up and curses the transparency of his face.  Thank goodness for sunglasses, though.  At least his eyes can’t betray him.

“Oh.  Yeah, a bit.  But she’s pretty chill, actually.  It’s … um …”

Even now stumbles to a halt.  He’d been going to say it was her type, that Beasts like weed because it calms them.  But that’s steering dangerously into a place where he’s going to expose himself.  This is where he should tell the truth about his type and his mother’s type to Isak.  This is where he should actually have a bit of courage and take a chance.  He can’t even have a simple conversation, for fuck’s sake, without tripping over some small nugget he can’t mention because it’ll give too much away.  It’s going to be exhausting if he ever wants to have a real conversation with Isak.  Still, the fear burns in him and he can’t bring himself to do it.

He tells himself it would be weird to blurt it out in the middle of the corridor during a short conversation like this, but deep inside, Even knows that’s not the real issue.  He knows it’s because he’s too cowardly to say anything, and the shame floods him again.

Isak’s looking at him quizzically, his head cocked to the side and his brows furrowed.  Even hastily clears his throat and looks away, desperately hunting for something to say.  To his relief, Isak finally speaks.

“I’m glad it wasn’t too bad.”  He smiles at Even again, a cheeky light in his eyes.  “That was some good weed.”

Even laughs, allowing himself to enjoy the moment.  “Yeah, it was.  I have more … if … if you wanted to come over again sometime.”

There’s so much pleasure in Isak’s face at the words that Even has to close his own eyes to avoid embarrassing himself.  He blesses the sunglasses once more for the protection they offer, not from the sun but from showing too much of his soul.

“Might be better somewhere other than your house, though,” Isak says, happiness glimmering through the confident attitude he’s trying to project.  “Don’t want to push your mother too far.”

Even finds himself flushing, his blood heating up.  Isak is just so considerate, and it does things to him.  As much as he knows Isak isn’t a Beauty, he still has some mannerisms which reflect the vibe Even usually expects from them.  It’s disorienting.  Even’s never really had much to do with Outcasts before, so he’s not sure if this is normal.  But he can’t help himself from reacting to the parts of Isak which are so much like a Beauty.

“We could go somewhere else, then,” he says now to cover.  “A park or something, I mean.”

“Or we could go to my place.  No-one there minds if I smoke.”

There’s a tension suddenly sitting in Isak’s body, and Even can feel his own responding.  Isak’s nervous, his fingers drumming on his thigh and his feet jiggling a little, though there’s a tilt to his head and a look in his eyes which defies Even to comment on it.

Totally charmed, Even can’t help the smile that blooms on his face.  “That’d be chill.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Isak gives him another shy smile, which contrasts with the boldness of the invitation to his house.  His protective instincts kicking in, Even gives him an encouraging wink.

“Friday, then?” he asks, and Isak nods, instantly overcoming his obvious vulnerability.  The tension that had kept his spine rigid and his jaw clenched is gone, and all that’s left is a softness which sits at odds with everything Even’s seen from him before.  His own body softens in response, and it’s been a very long time since Even has felt this at ease.

The sharp clang of the bell interrupts his thoughts, and Isak grimaces.  Even wonders if Isak’s as reluctant to move away as he himself is, but at that moment another guy arrives and raises his eyebrows at Isak.

“Oh, hey, Jonas,” Isak says.  He waves a hand in Even’s direction.  “This is Even.”

Jonas spins quickly to stare at him, and he casts a sideways glance at Isak which Even is fairly sure Isak misses entirely.  Jonas’s eyes are calculating as he drags them over Even’s body.  For the first time since he got to this school, Even feels like he might have been seen and understood.  It’s not a good thought.  There’s something in Jonas’s eyes that suggest that he knows -- or if not _knows ,_ then wonders.  He flushes again.

“Hey, man,” he says, holding out his hand and tamping down the temptation to snarl.  It’s times like these, when he feels threatened, that Even finds it hardest to keep his cool.  There’s no rage running red hot in his veins now, but the fear is almost more dangerous.  He’s never been one to truly give in to the anger that boils up sometimes, but the fear is his almost constant companion and he finds it much harder to contain his beastly inclinations to posture and fight when he feels scared or threatened.

Jonas takes his hand in a perfunctory shake before turning back to Isak.  “Ready?”

Isak rolls his eyes.  “No.  It’s English.  Who’s ever ready for that?”

Laughing, they walk off together leaving Even staring after them.  Just as he’s about to pull his eyes away and head to his own class, Isak looks back.  He grins and nods in Even’s direction.  In return, Even raises his glasses in ironic salute.  Isak rolls his eyes again as he turns back to Jonas and moves away.

Grinning, bubbly inside, Even moves in the direction of his first classroom.  Through the rest of the day, Even sits in his classes fizzing over the knowledge that he has a meeting (date?) set up with Isak in just a few days’ time.

Even so, the brief run-in with Jonas sits on his mind and he worries.  He’s allowed himself to relax and breathe, to believe that he can be free of the shackles of being labeled Beast.  But maybe he’s been too hasty.  It’s suddenly imperative for him to know what type Jonas is, if there’s a reason he seems able to see straight through Even.  Because if there isn’t then Even needs to be more careful.  

It takes hours before Even finds the person he needs, and by then he’s a stressed-out mess of aggressive fear.  He knows it’s not his best look and that he risks exposing himself if he doesn’t reel it in and get himself under control.  Consequently, he takes several long breaths, trying to calm himself as he keeps his prey in his sights.  Even sighs.   _No,_ he admonishes himself.   _Not prey.  Friend._  She’s his friend and he can’t approach her with this attitude.  So he shakes himself, deliberately relaxes his shoulders and then steps towards her.

Her eyes meet his before he even gets close, and he sighs in resignation.  Of course she knows he’s here and wants to see her.  Still, he pretends not to know she knows.  It’s one of those petty games he likes to play to feel a little like he has some control, like he can be the director of his own life.

“Halla,” he says as he leans up against the wall next to her.  She’s so much shorter than he is that he can’t quite understand why he finds her so intimidating.  Maybe it’s the aura she projects.  Beasts are always sensitive to people’s confidence, and if there’s one thing Sana aggressively projects into the world, it’s confidence.

“Hi.”

Her voice is crisp and her smile particularly dimply today.  She doesn’t say anything else, letting the moment drag out between them.  Even eventually gives in.

“You know Isak?”

Sana’s dimples deepen.  “I certainly do.  But we’ve been over this before.”

Even manages to contain the eyeroll he’s desperate to give her, and just says as mildly as he can, “so you know his friends?”

Sana is totally smirking now, damn her, and Even can feel his hackles trying to rise.  

“And why exactly do you want to know about his friends, Even?  Something you want to share?”

Even groans internally.  He’s not in the mood for this and he should have known better than to come over to Sana while feeling the way he did.  He closes his eyes and counts to ten before allowing himself to look at her.  When he does, the smirk is gone and she looks serious.

“I’m sorry, Even,” she says, and there’s contrition in her eyes.  “I shouldn’t mess with you.  Yes I do know them.  Why?”

“I don’t … I get the feeling they don’t like me, or one of them doesn’t and I just worry that he might … know?  About me being a Beast?”

Even’s more hesitant than he’d intended to be, but it seems to have done the trick.  Sana squeezes his arm before she speaks, and it looks like she’s measuring every word.

“First,” she says, and her voice is so fierce that Even almost steps back.  “If some asshole knows and is a shithead to you then they can come and deal with me.  You don’t do that crap to people just because of something they can’t help.”  

She trails off, her anger still obviously boiling in her, which is fascinating.  Even’s never seen anger like that on any type other than a Beast.  It’s surprisingly calming to think that other people may have some of the same impulses.  

Sana narrows her eyes and studies him for a moment before continuing.  “You mean Jonas, right?”

She doesn’t even really wait for Even’s hummed “yeah” before she’s nodding.

“He’s a Wise Man, Even.  He probably does have some idea.  They’re really perceptive, you know?”

Even nods again, unsure whether he’s dejected that he _has_ been seen and understood, or jubilant that it’s probably not apparent to everyone.

“Look,” she says, turning to him with a firm gaze and a warm smile.  “I doubt Jonas is judging you, not the way you think.  It’s more likely that he’d be concerned that you’re keeping it a secret.  If there’s one truth about him, it’s that he’s very protective of Isak.”

Even shrugs uncomfortably.  He doesn’t like the insinuation that Isak needs to be protected from him, but he knows somewhere deep inside him that it’s true.  There is a danger in being with Even, particularly while he’s keeping so much to himself.  It’s not fair and he really should say something.  Maybe he needs to work up his courage and let Isak know when they meet.  That would be the fairest thing to do, and if there’s one thing Even likes to be it’s fair.

By the time he gets home that afternoon, Even is exhausted.  The day has been a rollercoaster of emotions and he just wants to relax away from the prying attention of his parents.  Unfortunately, he knows that’s not going to be easy.

Even shuts the apartment’s door with the softest click, blessing his sock-clad feet for being so quiet as he starts to creep down the hallway towards his bedroom.  He stifles his breathing, glancing quickly in the direction of the lounge where the quiet hum of the TV mingles with the abrupt giggles of his mother and the less frequent but much louder chuckles of his father.  It feels ridiculous to be doing this, making a stealth mission in his own home, but Even’s not in the mood for the lecture he knows he’s likely to get.

He’s been avoiding their company for days now and his mother’s texts are getting more frustrated and aggressive.  It’s not a wise idea to annoy a Beast and yet Even has recklessly been courting her anger.  It’s like he wants to be told off, which is so fucking dumb.  This awkward avoidance isn’t healthy, either.  His therapist tells him that almost every meeting.  She purses her lips, looks at him over her glasses and shakes her head.  She says things like ‘trying to suppress your beastly side will just delay the inevitable explosion’ and ‘with your other issues, it’s important to keep as calm as you can’ and ‘you should spend more time with your Beauty’ -- none of which Even finds particularly scintillating or useful.  It may not be healthy to avoid this stuff, but the relief the avoidance brings sure feels good.

Unfortunately, Even’s not silent enough today, or his mother’s just reached that level of beastly anger that means she’s hyper alert at all times.  Either way, her heels click loudly on the floor just before he reaches his room and Even freezes.

“Fuck,” he says, too quietly to be heard but enough to relieve his tension.

“Even.  You’re to come to the lounge right now,” she says, before the sound of her heels clicks away into the distance, softened by the rug that lies in the middle of the room.

Even sighs.  He can’t avoid it forever, he guesses, so instead of doing what he petulantly wants to (thumping into his own room and locking the door behind him), he turns and makes his way towards his parents.  He hovers for a moment in the doorway, trying desperately to trace in the lines of their faces what they’re thinking right now.  From the way his father’s brow is furrowed and his mother’s lips are pressed together, he thinks it’s not looking good.  This is at least a 6 on the scale of ‘how much trouble am I in?’

“Mamma?”

She turns to him and nods briefly, acknowledging him.  His father kicks at the chair next to his and Even closes his eyes and groans internally.  Not on the couch by his mother.  This is _really_ not going to be a good chat.  He walks to the chair, taking his time and trying to calm his breathing as much as he can.  He doesn’t need this today, not with how hard it’s been to regulate himself.

Once he’s seated, with his hands in fists on his thighs and his foot twitching nervously against the wooden leg, he tries to project the image he’s cultivated for school: cool, calm collected.  Too good and secure to be sitting like a useless little kid being chastised for being unruly.

His father finally clears his throat and sends one glance in the direction of his wife.  Out of the corner of his eye, Even sees her nod at his father and he grimaces.  

“Even,” his father starts, his eyes sad as he looks at Even.  “What’s going on?”

Even’s brows pull together in confusion.  It tamps down the fury he’s been holding at bay a little.  “What do you mean?”

“We haven’t seen Sonja in over a week,” his mother says.  “She texted once to see if you’re okay, but other than that there’s been nothing.”

Even shrugs, still angry, though now that the effects have dampened it’s dropped off a little.  “So?”

“So?  Even!  She’s your Beauty!  You don’t know …”

Her voice is so calm that it kicks the fury inside him up a notch again.  He’s so sick of it, sick of the way they tiptoe around him all while trying to make him conform.  The pressure behind his eyes is building, and it all gets too much finally.  So he lets it out, lets fly at them the way he so often wants to but usually ends up holding back.

“Don’t know _what_?  What are you so fucking scared of?”

Because it’s suddenly obvious that they _are_ scared.  The lines of tension in their bodies don’t reflect anger at all; they reflect fear.  His parents are uncomfortable right now because they’re frightened.  

“Even, honey,” his mother tries again, clearly and obviously ignoring his swearing.  His confusion increases; they never let that stuff go.  Never.  He’s trying to figure this out, when his mother continues.  “You met Sonja so young, so you really have no idea how this all works.”

“I’m not stupid, Mamma.  I’ve seen the movies.”

“You know as well as I do that the movies aren’t reality.”  His father this time, his voice more serious than Even has ever heard it.  “It’s harder in reality.  You have no idea what it’s like.”

“You can’t control yourself.”  His mother’s voice is wobbly with unshed tears and he feels his own emotions stirring up.  He always does respond to her strongest emotions, and these are whirling and chaotic and make him feel chaotic in return.  “You … you have no real sense of right or wrong; it’s awful.  I don’t … I really don’t want you to go through what I did before your father came along.”

“But what if I’m not like that?” Even tries, desperately.  He doesn’t want to be that person, but he’s also getting to the point where he doesn’t want to be with Sonja either.

His mother shakes her head, her eyes sorrowful and she leans forward to grip his hand.  “You can’t avoid it, son.  It’s in your nature.”

“You said yourself that we met young.  You don’t know it’d be the same as you--”

“Even.”  His mother’s voice is firm now.  Her tears have dried up and there’s steel behind her words.  “You need to stop this.  Stop flittering around with this dream you have.  Face reality.  For your own sake, you have to see Sonja.  And soon.”

“But …”

“No.  This frivolous behaviour, these irrational ideas; this is all part of it and I don’t want that for you.  You will call her and you will deal with this.”

His shoulders slump, and Even lets his eyes drop from hers.  It’s a show of submission, and it infuriates him that he’s doing it.  It shouldn’t be her choice and yet it is.  She’s his mother, so she outranks him and at times like these she uses it to bring him into line.  So Even knows that he will contact Sonja and he will spend time with her.  It will calm him, it always does, but he’ll also be left with the hollow feeling of losing something essential to who he is, or wants to be.

His father reaches out one hand to him and squeezes his leg.  Despite not being his own Beauty, his father’s touch settles Even a little.  Not enough to be able to avoid Sonja, but enough for him to take a long, shaky breath and nod.

“Can I go?” he asks.  All he wants is to be alone where he can think through all this stuff.  There’s been a shift in his thinking, he can feel it, but he’s not sure what it is or where it’s come from.  They nod, their faces mirrors of concerned resignation, and Even suddenly needs to get away before he completely breaks down.

Even makes it to his room before the trembling starts, but only just.  He collapses against the door as soon as it’s shut behind him and presses his shaking hands to his mouth.  He’s so afraid, and he’s sick of it.  He’s been afraid for so much of his life that it’s almost like second nature now.  But part of him is rebelling, strongly, against his mother’s words.  He feels like ‘because it’s always been this way’ or worse ‘because it was like this for me’ just isn’t good enough anymore.  He wants proof, _needs_ proof, because if they can’t prove it then maybe he can be free.  Instead of just accepting ‘this is who we are’ Even is beginning to want to ask ‘but why does it have to be that way?’

There’s fear in those thoughts, of course.  Who is he to go against thousands of years of experience?  Who is he to say ‘well, actually, I think I could be different; I don’t think I need a Beauty’?  No-one, that’s who.  He thinks of how it might be to walk through life without Sonja by his side, without any Beauty, and he shudders.  Anxiety licks at him as he lets the thoughts in and he knows he’s not ready for that.  For all the bravado in the idea, Even knows he can’t break out on his own.  Not now, not with all the stresses in his life.  This would be the worst time to decide he can be the one to break out of type.  It’s almost the type of idea he gets when he’s manic, but Even knows that’s not the problem right now.  He’s not manic, there are none of the signs, but the people around him are right; this is not a sensible idea.

But he is proud that he was able to voice his thoughts out loud.  They didn’t accept what he said, but at least he said it.  He’ll do what they say, knows it’s for the best at least for now, but one day.  One day he’s going to be stronger and when that day comes Even thinks he might just be able to stand up and say no.

In the meantime, he knows he has to call Sonja, but he can’t face it today.  Today he’s exhausted and as much as he knows he should see her to alleviate some of that exhaustion, the very idea of dealing with her makes his bones feel even heavier.  So instead, he sits at his desk and pulls his books out.  He promises himself that if he can get through his homework without losing patience or focus then he’s allowed to leave calling Sonja until tomorrow.

He does it, and he smiles.  It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.  Maybe with enough victories under his belt he’ll be able to tamp the fear right down and then maybe he can truly be free.

After school the next day, it’s with a certain degree of reluctance that Even pulls out his phone and opens his message string with Sonja.  The phone sits heavy in his hand and his vision blurs a little as he stares at it for too long.  Part of him, the reckless part, still wants to leave it be, to ignore her for long enough that whatever happens to Beauty-less Beasts happens.  That part would be ridiculed as childish, or worse self-destructive, by those around him and even by his rational self.  That reckless part isn’t allowed to win, not today.

Even closes his eyes, leans his head back against the wall and sighs.  He can feel the burning tension in his body, can feel the way aggression is starting to coil around him, and a shiver of fear twists into his heart.  As much as he wants to be reckless, Even knows he should listen to his parents.  They’ve been there, after all.  The memory of his mother’s voice as she talked about what it was like haunts him.  He’s still proud of himself for voicing his ideas, but what he feels is still untested.  He thinks he could control himself without their help, but he doesn’t _know_.  And that’s the problem.

Besides, his parents have been casting looks at him ever since they talked and he knows it’s just a matter of time before they dive in again.  He may as well get it over with.  So he takes a breath, and sends a message.

_Hey.  Do you want to come over?_

Her response is instant.   _Sure.  Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there._  There’s a heart emoji at the end and Even’s heart squeezes in pained disgust at the gesture.  He feels like such an asshole.  Why is he like this?  Why can’t he just love her like a normal Beast?  Why is the thought of his date (meeting, whatever) with Isak on Friday much more appealing than seeing his actual real life girlfriend?

The sharp rattle of knuckles on the front door drags him out of his thoughts.  He takes advantage of the commotion in the entryway to school his face and force his thoughts into more pleasant spaces.  It’s not Sonja’s fault that he’s in this restless, insecure place.  He shouldn’t take his irritation out on her.

She arrives in his bedroom and presses a firm kiss to his lips.  Even is distant enough from the moment to critique it.  Soft, welcoming.  A bit perfunctory, maybe.  It’s a kiss born of too long being together and going through the expected motions.  There’s no fire there.  He sighs against her lips and she smiles as she pulls back.

“It’s been a while,” she says as she settles down next to him on the bed.  “You’ve been busy?”

“Mmmmm,” is his noncommittal answer, but as she shifts restlessly against his side, he thinks better of it.  “It’s just a lot, getting to know a new school.”

The gaze she turns on him is sympathetic.  “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

He raises his eyebrows in surprised question, and she laughs.  “I expected you to need me from the moment school finished every day til the moment it started again the next.  But you’re … you’re doing so well.”

That startles him.   _Expectations suck,_ Isak’s voice whispers in his mind and he grimaces.  He shrugs at her.  “Guess it’s not as bad as we thought.”

She nods thoughtfully, but there’s a hint of disappointment in the way her body sits and the way her eyes flicker away from his.  On a normal day he’d try to talk her out of it, tell her she’s so great and that without her he’d be a raging, incoherent mess.  On a normal day he’d have enough energy to deal with this.  But it’s not a normal day.  It’s too soon after his epiphany and he finds it too hard to pretend.

So he does what’s easiest and leans over to kiss her, aggressively, allowing the practiced rhythms between them to take over.  The sex is short, fast and intense, as usual, and Even finds himself wishing yet again that it could be more romantic somehow.  He’s not going to deny physically enjoying it; he’s not one for lying, but he wishes there could be more to it.  Sonja likes the loss of power, the slide into being dominated, but Even finds this dynamic emotionally unsatisfying.  He wants more of a connection, yearns for it in fact.  This does the job, satisfies one hunger, but it leaves another unsatisfied.  The more often they do this, the more he feels the emptiness.

Afterwards, she’s lying tucked in beside him, her head on his shoulder and her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his chest.  He’s sated for now, and he smiles down at her with affection.  It’s in these moments, when his beastliness has been pushed back down into the deepest recesses of his soul, that Even thinks he’s actually okay and he _can_ actually do this.  And that’s what Sonja gives him.  No matter how irritated he gets with her at times, and no matter how much he wishes this was all different, Even can’t deny that these moments of peace in the aftermath are good and that they ground him.

Even sighs and settles back, one arm around her waist, the other tucked behind his head.  He stares up at the ceiling, enjoying the feeling of being in the moment for once with no traces of aggression left.  These times when she lets him cuddle her are so important to him, and he feels the love welling up again.  Most Beauties don’t act like this, they don’t enjoy the cuddling afterwards, but then most Beasts don’t want the intimacy either, so the fact that Sonja humours this wish of his speaks a lot for her character.  She’s so fucking good to him and he feels all the shame of the way he’s been feeling about her lately.  He lets himself close his eyes and tuck his nose into her hair, breathing in her scent.  He feels peaceful, a sensation that is all too rare for him.

Of course, it doesn’t last; apparently it never can.  Sonja rustles a little and flips her body into a position where she can look up at him.  

“Elias called me,” she says.

Even freezes.  He’s been dreading this for weeks, maybe months, and it’s finally here.  Of course it’s coming from Sonja and not Sana, too.  Sana knows not to push, but Sonja apparently doesn’t.  Her fingers still in their soft slide over his skin, showing that she’s noticed his hesitations, so he forces himself to smile.

“Yeah?”

“He wants to meet up.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Even,” her voice is soft, reassuring.  “You know they’re going to be fine.”

“No, actually, I don’t,” he snaps.  “Last time I saw them it was anything but fine.”

“Even.”

She sits up a little, trying to look at his expression.  He flushes and looks away, unwilling to let her see the feelings he knows are stamped all over his face.

“Even, they don’t judge you.”

The ashes of his rage start to flicker with heat again.  She’s so _sure_ , so certain.  But she doesn’t know, she can’t.  She wasn’t there when everything happened, so she has no idea of the depth of the disgust Even saw in his friends’ eyes.  He’ll never forget it, nor the pain he felt as he tried to fix it, to get close to them again in the only way he could think of.  That they want to see him now doesn’t change any of that, and that Sonja thinks it should infuriates him.

He slides away from her and drops his legs over the side of the bed to the floor.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”  

He’s sharp, unkind, and he knows it.  But the fire is building again already and for once being with Sonja isn’t having its usual calming effect.  He needs to not be here because being with her is the problem today.  Usually, her calming influence pulls him back from whatever brink he’s found himself on, but today’s she’s the one setting him off.

“Even, you can’t keep running away from your problems.”

“Watch me,” he snarls as he pulls on sweatpants and then a t-shirt.  

It’s so frightening, he thinks, that his anger is on such a knife-edge all the time and that even Sonja can’t deal with him in these moods.  She’s staring at him in consternation, possibly wondering for the first time if there’s something wrong between them.  Sure enough, she slips out of the bed and pads over to him.  She puts one tentative hand on his arm and he flinches away from it instinctively.

“Are you okay, babe?  You seems tenser than usual.”

Yeah.  Tenser than usual after they’ve fucked, she means, and he winces.  It’s true.  It’s his fault and he wishes he could stop being such an asshole but the fires are raging again and he needs to get away.

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I can’t be here right now.  I’m going to go for a walk.  It’s fine,” he adds as she opens her mouth again.  “I’ll be fine.  I just need air.”

“You need company?” she asks and he can barely hide the disbelieving smile those words generate.  How can she not notice that she’s the problem?  But then, why should she?  She wasn’t here when he realised he doesn’t want to passively accept whatever society says is best for him anymore.  She has no way of knowing how unhappy he is in the relationship now.

Even forces himself to smile, takes her face in his hands, and kisses her deeply.  “We’ll talk later, okay?  I just … I really do need time to myself right now.”

She smiles, her eyes brighter, and nods her willingness.  He hates himself for feeling the slight tug of delight that his Beauty approves of his actions.  He wants to get out of this, but his body is so attuned to their usual rhythm that it responds the way it always has.

He shakes her off and tries to ignore the way the hint of hurt on her face twists his heart as he leaves her behind.

By the time he’s home from his walk, Even is calmer.  He paced the streets, taking the longest, most aggressive strides he could and walking until he was panting and weary.  There’s a bone-deep exhaustion sitting in his body, but it’s good.  He feels centered now, less like he’s going to explode or blow up at someone.  He slips into the apartment, and shuts the door gently behind him.

Fortunately, Sonja is gone and she mustn’t have said anything to his parents because they greet him cheerfully, their smiles warm and approving because he did what he was supposed to do and reconnected with his Beauty.  Even nods at them and goes back to his bedroom.  It’s dinner time, but he’s not hungry and he throws himself onto his bed.  He ignores the stale scent left behind after his encounter with Sonja, and stares at the ceiling again.

He lets a smile drift onto his face because what he has to look forward to now is Isak.  He just has to get through tomorrow and then it’s Friday.  And okay, he has to get through Friday before he gets to go on their date.  Meeting?  Whatever; he wants it to be a date so he’s calling it a date in his head.  Sue him.  Hopefully, having had Sonja over today sets his parents’ minds at ease and they stop pestering him.  Because Even doesn’t want to think about her, especially not with the anxiety and edge that her words about Elias and the boys had brought.  All he wants to do is fantasize about Isak.  That probably makes him an asshole.  Here he is in the bed where he just had sex with his girlfriend, and all he’s doing is fantasizing about someone else.  Even shakes the thought off.  He’ll deal with all that later.  Right now, Isak is the important one.

Maybe if Even manages to regulate himself for a while he can tell Isak the truth.  It’s a promise he makes to himself: _prove I’m worthy, prove I’m capable and then I can tell him_ .  In the meantime, Even guiltily pushes the knowledge that Isak _deserves_ that truth (and that hiding it is, in fact, deception) to the side.  He’s going to deal with that later too, once he’s proved himself to himself.  He’s going to allow himself to enjoy this thing with Isak while he can.

By the time he’s due to meet up with Isak, Even is thrumming with energy and enthusiasm.  He’s is one of his moods where all he wants to do is fly and play and have fun.  He knows Sonja is always wary of these moods, thinking them unbecoming of someone his age.  She probably also worries that he’s starting to go manic when he’s in this mood, but Even knows himself well enough to know that this isn’t mania.  He has more control in these moments, more clarity and understanding.  This is just the Beast in him wanting to play.

So he lies in wait for Isak outside the school.  Over the last few weeks, Even has managed to memorise Isak’s timetable and if that’s a bit creepy, well, Even has a brain that just naturally categorizes things.  And it has apparently picked up on his inner desire to know as much as there is to know about Isak.  Isak comes around the corner, his head down as usual and his earbuds in his ears.  As he passes, Even slides off the wall he’s been leaning against and tiptoes up behind him.  

They stay that way for a few seconds before Isak is looking up, peering to the side with furrowed brow and a slight pout on his beautiful lips.  Even grins and steps closer, allowing his breath to drift over Isak’s neck and making him start in surprise.

“Halla,” Even says, grinning cutting in over Isak’s startled “faen!” as he spins towards him.

“You absolute dick,” Isak says when his breath catches again.  “How long were you there?”

Even shrugs.  “Long enough to know you look far too cute when listening to music.”

The red that stains Isak’s cheeks as he bites his lip and looks down is absolutely charming and Even can’t help the joy that wells up as he looks at him.  One thing he hasn’t really worked out in all his research ( _not_ stalking thank you very much; Even has standards and understands boundaries), is whether Isak is into boys or girls or both.  At first he’d told himself it doesn’t matter because of course as an Outcast Isak’s immediately off limits anyway.  Unfortunately, every interaction they’ve had has reminded Even that his first instinct here was attraction, and it’s an instinct he hasn’t been able to turn off.  So here he is, making awkward attempts at flirting to try to gauge Isak’s level of interest.  It’d be pathetic if Even wasn’t so desperate.  Okay, it’s still pathetic, but Even’s level of desperation is high enough that he’s ignoring that.

“You ready?” Isak says now as Even drags his thoughts back into the moment.

“Yep.  It’s all right here,” Even says, patting his bag.

“You brought it to school with you?”  Isak’s incredulous tone makes Even laugh.

“Of course.  Why not?  They never check anyway, so there’s no bother.”

The look he’s getting now is pure admiration and Even can’t help but react again.  It’s intoxicating to be looked at this way, like you matter.  Like you’re somehow better than anyone else.  He flushes and looks away, but not before he catches the glint of admiration as Isak’s eyes trail across his body.  It sets a fluttery feeling going in his chest and Even glances back with a small smile.  This boy is going to kill him.

The tram ride back to Isak’s flat is filled with short bursts of conversation and longer minutes of contemplative silence.  It should feel awkward, but this time it doesn’t.  Their few brief conversations together have lent them an understanding, and they both stare out the window content just to be.  It’s restful the way Isak had mentioned once, and Even feels himself relaxing.  Even knows, he’s _sure_ , that Isak isn’t a Beauty and yet his body is responding in much the same way as it does to Sonja.  His heart rate calms, his tension melts away and he feels an easiness and lightness that doesn’t usually accompany him.  His overexcited mind settles into something close to peace and he hums softly to himself.

“That’s nice,” Isak says.

“What’s nice?”

“Your humming.  Your voice is … uh.  Nice.”

There’s another blush staining Isak’s cheeks and Even grins.  He’s almost sure Isak does like boys.  He’s nervous in a way that most guys aren’t when they talk to him, but many girls are, and Even feels a pull between them.  He hopes it’s not just in his mind.  To test it, he lets his fingers brush against Isak’s when they exit the tram soon after.  There’s a sharp intake of breath and a widening of eyes before Isak’s face slips back into the perfect mask he uses most of the time.  Even counts it as a victory.

Before they can enter Isak’s building, Even grabs his arm and pulls him around to look at him.  His reckless side is taking over again and he wants to go explore the world.

“It’s too nice a day to be stuck inside,” he declares.  “We should go somewhere fun.”

Isak laughs, his eyes sparkling.  “My house is the most fun!”

“I’m sure it is, Isak, but … don’t you want to fly, feel the wind in your hair and just be free for a bit?”

Isak looks torn, as if he’d love nothing more than to be inside his house, tucked away from prying eyes, but also as if the idea of being set free had loosened something inside him too.

“Come on, then.  Let’s go.”

Even’s firm, commanding even.  It’s the Beast in him, Even knows, pushing against a hesitation.  But there’s also something in Isak which calls out to be unlocked and Even knows at least part of him is responding to that side of Isak.  Eventually, he nods, and Even laughs as he spins and sprints away from Isak.

They run, as far and as fast as they can and Even eventually slows, then stops, leaning his hands on his thighs and gasping for breath.  Isak’s right here beside him, cheeks reddened with the exercise and his breath also coming in rough bursts.  They’re laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“I am definitely not as fit as I thought I was,” Even mutters and Isak turns teasing eyes on him.

“You’re certainly out of shape,” he says, giggling as Even pushes him hard enough to drop him onto the grass.

“I’m in superstar shape, thank you.  I’m just ... “

But Isak’s laughing and refusing to accept Even’s assertions, so obviously he has to jump on him and wrestle him into submission.  As soon as Even touches Isak’s body he regrets this impulse.  The movements are all innocent and chaotic, and yet every time Isak’s hands scrabble to get a hold in order to push Even over sparks fly across Even’s skin from the contact.  Soon, his own body is lit up with hundreds of tiny contact flares.  He’s out of breath, but not because of the exertion; having Isak this close -- in his arms, even -- leaves Even flushed and breathless with desire for more.  Eventually it gets too much and Even begs for mercy.  They’re both gasping for breath on the welcoming grass of the park they’ve found themselves in, and Even hopes at least some of Isak’s reaction is for similar reasons to his own.  The light in Isak’s eyes suggests that might be the case and it leaves Even feeling warm.  To cover for his feelings, Even reaches for his bag and pulls out the joint.

They pass it between them until it’s gone, not bothering with talk until it’s almost burnt away.  The laughter has shifted something in them, and there’s no hesitation as they share the weed.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Isak says as he stares up at the clouds above them.  “How big everything seems out there?”

Even follows his eyes and squints at the shapes floating through the blue.  He can’t see anything up there to inspire such a thought, but he has already noticed that Isak gets a little philosophical when he’s high.  He goes with it, eager to understand more of this mind beside him.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like … like, there’s this plan the universe is supposed to have for us right?  We’re born a type and we’re stuck with that type forever, and it’s like we have no choice.”  He sighs, crossing his hands on top of his chest and turning his head to look at Even.  “But, what if it doesn’t have to be that way?  What if somewhere out there it’s different?”  His voice drops into a small whisper which Even barely catches as he looks back up at the sky.  “What if I don’t have to be an Outcast?”

“I get it,” Even says softly.  “The only way out is to die.  You can’t escape your destiny any other way.”

“That’s so dark, though,” Isak says.  “What if there is another way?  What if we don’t have to be stuck as Outcasts forever?  Wouldn’t it be nice to, I dunno, be a Charming or even a Damsel?  Just something else.”

“A Beast,” Even says softly, and Isak crinkles his nose.

“I’m not sure I’d want to be a Beast.  That seems like the shittiest type.  Always so angry and aggressive, no control over your emotions.  I’d stay an Outcast if those were my choices.”

Even’s heart freezes.  It’s one thing to think these things about himself, but to hear it articulated by someone else?  By Isak?  That’s hard and it fucking _hurts_.  Sonja’s words come back to him, and he tries to keep his voice light as he says, “nah, Beasts are okay.  They can be fun too, right?”

A cloud passes over Isak’s face and he shudders.  “My mother’s a Beast and she’s so unpredictable.  It’s not … it doesn’t seem like a nice way to be.”

So, they have this in common then.  Maybe that’s why Isak has resonated so strongly with Even so quickly.  He tests the theory.

“So your father’s a Beauty?”

“No.  Or ... I don’t know.  Maybe? He left so long ago that I don’t really remember him.  But Mamma’s been … she’s so hard to live with.  It’s always rages and aggression.  There’s no softness or fun.  It’s not her fault, and I don’t blame her … but it’s not...” he hesitates for a moment, considering his next words, before adding, “it doesn’t seem like a nice life for her.”

His voice is wistful, and Even’s heart twists.  Maybe Mamma had been right.  Maybe a single Beast really is a bad thing; it certainly sounds like that’s the case with Isak’s mother.  Maybe Even’s view is so skewed because his mother is in a stable archetypal relationship and his own impulses are regulated by Sonja.  

It’s a maudlin thought, and Even doesn’t want to face it.  He wants to enjoy his time here with Isak, so he reaches out to squeeze his hand, allowing it to linger.  Isak turns to him, his eyes lidded and a serious expression on his face.  His hand squeezes Even’s back and he sighs.

“I should go home,” he says, his voice regretful as he drops the contact.  “Eskild’s such a mother; he’ll worry if I don’t come for dinner.”

Even sighs.  He doesn’t want this to end, but Isak’s right.  They should go back to their own homes and interact with their families, or flatmates in Isak’s case.  Even’s still consumed with curiosity about that, but he doesn’t want to push.  There are so many things in his own background that he wants to keep to himself that he can’t begrudge someone else from wanting their own secrets.

“Okay,” he says, standing up and brushing the grass clippings off his pants before extending a hand to Isak.  “Can I walk you home?”

It sounds so cheesy, like an old fashioned asshole in some movie offering to take a Damsel home, but Isak grins at him.  He doesn’t drop Even’s hand once he’s standing and Even is content to let it be.

The walk home is far longer than the run there had been, and they talk the whole way with their hands swinging between them, fingers clasped loosely around each other.  Neither of them acknowledges it, so Even doesn’t know what this all means, but he can’t help the joy that bubbles in him when he thinks of it.  He allows himself to really feel the connection of their crossed fingers, the slightly calloused palm in his own.

At Isak’s door, he squeezes Even’s hand once and grins at him.  Emboldened, Even asks, “Do you want to come over tomorrow?  Maybe watch some movies?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”  

Isak’s cheeks are stained with red again and Even has to use every ounce of self control that he possesses to stop himself from brushing his lips over one to see if it’s as warm as it looks.  Instead, he smiles and steps back, dropping Isak’s hand as he walks backwards saying, “about seven?  I’ll make popcorn.”

Isak’s answering grin sets Even’s heart aflame.  He disappears inside and Even turns towards his own home.

The next day, Even is bubbling, his heart is light and he almost skips around the house.  He can feel his mother’s bewildered but delighted smile following him as he flits from room to room in joyful excitement.  Because Isak is coming here!  He’s going to be here in Even’s house again.  They made a date, and this time he’s pretty sure it really _is_ a date and not just a friendly meetup.

Even’s feet, clad only in socks as they are, end up sliding every which way with the speed at which he moves from spot to spot, clearing a t-shirt that’s lying discarded on the floor or moving the piles of papers that lie scattered all over his desk, testimony to the late night burst of energy he had after he got home from Isak’s.  He sets up his laptop, makes sure he has the movies he wants to share with Isak queued up and ready to go.  Then all that remains is jittery tension as he waits for the time Isak is set to arrive.

“You’re excitable this morning,” his mother says with a wink.  “Sonja coming over?”

That stops Even in his tracks.  “Sonja?  No.  Why would it be Sonja?”

She smiles at him, her eyes filled with amused understanding.  “I just haven’t seen you this …” she flaps her hand in his direction, indicating the twisting of his feet and the energy in his body, “since you first started courting her.  So I just assumed.”

She’s closer than she thinks, and Even’s mortified that he’s this easy to read.  “It’s not Sonja, Mamma.  It’s just Isak visiting.  You remember him?”

Her nose crinkles a little at the memory and she nods, her smile slipping a little.  “What about Sonja, though?”

Even thinks about lying to her, but he’s getting too tired of keeping it all inside.  “I … uh.  It’s not … not as good with her.  Anymore.  I just …”

“I thought that might be the case, but hoped I was wrong.”  His mother’s eyes are sad when she gathers him in for a hug.  “So this is why you were talking about being alone.”

Even sucks in a shaky breath and nods, keeping his eyes away from hers and his head pressed into her shoulder.  He feels her arms tighten their squeeze before she drops them and takes hold of his hands.  She waits until he looks up before she speaks.  “Even.  I know I said it’s best not to be alone.   But I also don’t want you to be unhappy.  If you’ve found another Beauty, then you need to set Sonja free.”

Hating himself for the false hope he’s giving her, Even sighs and nods.  He feels even more like an asshole, but he can’t let her know Isak’s not a Beauty and yet he also can’t bring himself to let her think they’ll be together the way she’s imagining.  “I know, Mamma.  But I don’t know … and there’s so much else.  I just … I want us to be friends for a while.”

He’s lying to his mother; he’d dive into something with Isak in a heartbeat, but he needs to be cautious with his family.   She nods her understanding.  She knows there’s all the added issues with his bipolar and everything that happened with that.  She knows there are so many reasons why he’d keep Sonja around, just because she already knows about his history and has supported him through it.

With one last pat of his arm she turns back to her book.  “You still need to talk to Sonja.”

He swallows and nods.  “I know.  I will, Mamma.  When … when there’s someone else.  I will.”

Her eyes follow him as he leaves the room, and there’s affection in them but also worry.  Even hates it.  He hates that he’s always doing this, making their lives more stressful and unhappy.  It feels like a curse, and one he really shouldn’t be thinking about pushing onto someone else.  He makes sure to stay out of her way for the rest of the day, unwilling to see that look repeated again.

Even so, the bubbly joy is back by the time Isak’s hesitant knock sounds at the door and Even scrambles to be the one to reach it first.  He yanks it open, grinning when he sees Isak on the other side.  The passage of a day has dimmed Even’s memory of those eyes and that mouth, so he’s blown away again at the way Isak’s curls bounce on his forehead when he shifts nervously from foot to foot, and the way his mouth curves into a smile when he spots Even.  He’s still so fucking beautiful.

Even’s so caught up in admiration that he doesn’t notice anyone behind him until the impatient clearing of a  throat startles him and he jumps back and lands on his father’s toes.

“Hi.  Isak, is it?”  his father holds his hand out to Isak, who shakes it uncertainly as if he’s never seen a hand before.

“Yes.  Yes, I’m Isak.  It’s … um.  It’s good to meet you.”

“Come in, sit for a bit.  Do you want some dinner?  We’re just finishing up, but I’m sure we can rustle up some extra.”

His father prattles as he leads them into the house, and Even catches Isak’s wide, panicked eyes as he follows.

“Actually, Dad.  We’re thinking of watching a couple of movies.  Long ones.  Should really get started.”

“Oh.”  His father looks uncertainly between them and the open door to the lounge.  “Oh, I suppose so.  I’ll … uh.  I’ll just go let Mamma know.”  He starts towards the door before looking back.  “Are you sure you don’t want dinner?  It seems rude not to offer …”

“It’s fine, Dad.  Fine.”  Even pushes Isak in the direction of the room.  “Isak already ate, didn’t you, Isak?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He’s regained some of his composure now and he looks like he’s enjoying Even’s discomfort, the little shit.

Even finally gets them away from his father, and settles Isak in his room on the small couch that doubles as his viewing seat.   Even plops down beside him, enjoying the fact that the tiny space means they’re now pressed against each other from hips to knees.  He leans his head back against the couch, then turns his head towards Isak and grins at him.

“Your father is intense,” Isak remarks.

“He can’t help it; it’s his nature.  You know … the nurturing type,” Even says and then freezes as he realizes what he’s said.  But Isak just nods, accepting it.  He doesn’t query what type he might be and that makes sense.  There’s more than one type, after all, that enjoys hospitality and looking after people.  There’s no reason why Isak would leap to ‘he’s a Beauty’ and even less reason why that would direct him to ‘so you must be a Beast.’  Still, Even’s heart is racing as he leans forward to grab the laptop and settle it on their knees.

To calm himself, he also reaches for a joint, holding it up for Isak’s approval.  At his nod, Even lights it up, takes a drag and passes it to Isak.  Their fingers brush and electricity flickers between them.  Isak smiles his thanks, his eyes lingering on Even’s and his fingers caressing his for the very briefest of moments.

“Do you know this movie?” Even asks, his eyes still on Isak as he leans forward to start _Romeo and Juliet_ going.

Isak shakes his head, withdrawing his touch to take a drag.  “No. I usually watch more normal stuff.”

“Normal?  Are you suggesting this masterpiece isn’t normal?”

“Even, it’s Shakespeare,” Isak says as he passes the weed back.  “You don’t get more pretentious than that.”

“You’ll see.  This one isn’t pretentious at all.  It’s young and raw and everyone in it is hot as fuck.”

“Ah, now I get it.”

Isak turns his gaze on Even, considering him closely, and it takes Even’s breath again.  He takes another drag of the joint before hurriedly passing it back to Isak.

“Get what?” he says eventually, realizing he needs to say something.

“Underneath your pretentious hipster film nerd vibe, you’re just a guy with a hard-on for Leo DiCaprio.”

Even laughs, his whole body shaking with it.  “You got me.  It’s all about being able to watch beautiful people as much as I like while pretending it’s an artistic experience.”

“Thought so.”  Isak’s smug as he leans back against the couch.  “I’m the master at figuring people out.”

The joint is burned away now, and Even stubs it out before turning his attention to the movie.  After that it’s torture.  Isak’s focused on watching, his eyes alight and his body leaning forward as he takes in the images flickering on the screen.  The laptop is balanced on their knees and every time Isak shifts to get a better view or to gasp or laugh or to take a hit of the new joint Even starts up, his thigh brushes Even’s.  There’s electricity flowing almost constantly now and it takes everything Even has not to just jump in and do something about it.  Eventually, he can’t stop himself.  The second joint is a distant memory and there’s a haze of smoke around them.  It reminds him again of the confessional, and he thinks it must be a sign.

Their knees are pressed even more firmly together where they’re sitting, and Even can feel the tension in Isak.  There’s something in the air, sucking the oxygen out of the room and making Even’s head swim whenever he glances in Isak’s direction.  It could just be the weed again, but Even’s sure it’s more.

His eyes catch Isak’s and they both smile.  He finds his heart beating erratically, admonishes himself to just do it,  then lifts his hand a little to slide it onto Isak’s leg, just above the knee.  It’s a position he sits in with Sonja often, but right now it feels bigger and more important than the casual touch he has with her.  Isak’s eyes widen at the touch, then soften as they crinkle around the edges and he glances over at Even.  His breath hitches and the sound rings out in the still of the bedroom.

Isak’s hand slips on top of Even’s and he curls his fingers in between the ones sitting just above his knee.  Even can’t help the gasp that he lets out and Isak’s smile widens, his gaze never leaving Even’s.  Even sucks in another gasping breath and it’s enough to break the tension.  Still holding hands, they turn back to the movie, but now it’s like a dam has burst.  Now, Isak’s body relaxes and his head drops down to rest on Even’s shoulder.  Now, Even finds himself brushing his thumb rhythmically over Isak’s fingers as they lie clasped together.  Now, his heart stutters as Isak’s breath hits warm under his chin as he turns his head.

Even turns his own head and shifts his body slightly so he’s angled towards Isak.  The laptop slides slowly to the ground, but neither of them pay it any heed.  Their lips are now so very close together that Even can feel the hot exhale of Isak’s breath.  He gulps, unwilling to break the moment but desperate to press his lips to Isak’s and find out once and for all what he tastes like.

The moment lengthens until Isak’s mouth twitches in a tiny smile and he presses forward, allowing his lips to hover over Even’s.  With a contented sigh, Even kisses back, using his free hand to brush the hair off Isak’s face then cupping his neck as he draws him in closer.  Isak’s lips drop open and he surges forward a little, moving until his thigh is wedged between Even’s and the back of the couch and his hands are curled in Even’s hair.

It’s intimate, romantic in a way Even’s never experienced before.  He knows, instinctively, that Isak isn’t going to be impatient, that he’s revelling in this as much as Even is.  It’s heady, the knowledge that he could probably kiss Isak for hours just like this, and he’d never be expected to act dominant or be aggressive.  The thought makes him whimper and Isak pulls back with a grin.

“Hi,” Even whispers, reluctant to shatter the peace with loud words and harsh movements.  He lays his forehead against Isak’s and smiles.  Isak’s own giddy smile reflects back to him.

“Hey,” he whispers back, before sliding their lips together again.  It’s soft and careful, and Even loves it.  He allows his body to soften and slide downwards on the couch, with the exciting result that Isak ends up on top of him.  Even’s not used to being in this position and he realizes he likes it a lot.  It’s nice to not have to be the one in control, it’s nice to let Isak bend over him and press kisses to his lips.  Kisses that are both soft and show his inexperience; they also show just how much he’s enjoying this.  Even hums, and pulls Isak down more firmly so the kisses can become more intense, and soon they’re both gasping for breath.  

They break apart, lips slipping away from one another as they smile.  Isak’s legs are now straddling Even’s, and his groin is right there next to Even’s own.  Even can feel them both, hard lengths pressed together through the layers of their clothes, and he thinks he should be more embarrassed than he is.  For all that he knows he’s pansexual, from the intense crushes he’s had on a diverse range of very hot celebrities and classmates, this is still the first time he’s put his attraction to anyone not-female into action, so to speak.  It should feel weird, but it doesn’t.  It’s hot and sexy and unbelievably endearing when Isak groans and drags his body along Even’s, creating a slight friction as he does so.

It’s hesitant, and Even can tell that Isak has no more experience with this than he does.  The idea is amazing.  They get to do this together, explore this together.  He shifts carefully under Isak, with the result being an even greater increase in the pressure building in his dick as their clothed lengths rub together.  He gasps, and watches as Isak’s eyes widen and darken as he looks down at Even.

“Is this okay?” Even asks, and the smile he gets in return is blinding.

“ _So_ okay,” Isak whispers as he dives back in for another kiss.  This one is accompanied by a slightly harder roll of his hips, which makes Even’s back arch, pressing them together more firmly.

Suddenly, Even realizes they’re making out like the horny teenagers they are and his brain catches up with his body.  It’s torn between mortification ( _shit, I have a girlfriend; what the fuck am I doing?_ ) and delight ( _I’m kissing Isak!  Isak is kissing me!  We’re kissing!  With bodies!_ ), and his response to that last thought comes out in an awkward chuckle against Isak’s lips.

Isak stills, stops kissing him, and Even draws in a sharp breath, eyes searching Isak’s face, worrying now that he’s offended Isak somehow.  But no.  Isak has dropped his head down onto Even’s shoulder and is giggling.  Soon, they’re both laughing, unable to hold it in.  Because it is ridiculous, but it’s also the best moment Even can remember experiencing for a long time.  By the time they’re spent, giggles erupting only occasionally from one or the other, Isak is pillowed on Even’s chest and both their erections have gone down.  Even realizes he doesn’t mind.  He’s happy here, happy to lie with Isak in this way.

He feels like an asshole, but he can’t help but compare it to Sonja and the way she shies away from affection in these moments.  It’s with a sense of awed wonder that Even recognises what Isak has given him here.  That he’s offered himself, not just sexually, but also emotionally and it takes Even’s breath away again.  He wants to wrap them both up and tuck them in together and never allow anyone or anything into this sanctuary.  It’s too precious, and there are too many things which could ruin it.

“Hey Isak?” he asks softly.

“Mmmm?”

“We should … or we could.  Um.  Move to the bed?”

Isak shifts restlessly, tilting his head up so he can look Even in the eyes.  Even knows he’s remembering the few moments when sex had seemed to be on the table, just the way Even is.  But he knows he’s not ready, and he thinks Isak may feel the same way, so he smiles and presses a small kiss to his hair, revelling in the hum he gets back.

“Not to do anything.”  Even rethinks that as disappointment floods both himself and Isak’s eyes at the words.  He revises, “or maybe we can cuddle.  It’s just, you have a fucking bony arm, it’s poking into my ribs, and I think my leg is dead.”

Isak laughs, looking up into Even’s eyes with a blooming affection.  “You’re so over-dramatic.”

Even gasps.  “I am not!  I’m exactly the right amount of dramatic!”

In the end, they do move, wrapping up together under the blankets and pulling the sheets to their chins as a way to force everything else away from their bubble.  It works for a few moments, but when Isak slips into sleep Even is left pondering everything.

It’s a mess, inside his head.  So many conflicting things trying to take precedence, but none of them managing it.  At the top, of course, is Isak.  He’s pressed against Even, his long limbs relaxed and spread out; his hands are tucked in under the pillow his head is resting on, one leg hooked over Even’s and the other has slipped out so his toes peek from under the blanket.  They’re almost the most adorable things Even’s ever seen and he finds himself fixated on them for several seconds.  The weight of Isak next to him is almost enough to push away everything else, but some thoughts end up tormenting him anyway.

There’s Sonja and the heavy guilt he feels at having done this while still clinging on to her and to everything she represents.  There’s the fear of going out of archetype.  He can’t deny any longer that he wants this, wants Isak and everything he’s offering, but under it all is the knowledge that this is a system that works.  It’s there for a reason and Even chucking it aside for something that seems bright now but has no built-in guarantees is a little terrifying to him.  There’s also the worry about how his parents would react, and the other people around him.  How they will deal with him leaving Sonja for Isak.  Because it’s not just the archetype, of course, and Even has to acknowledge into the silence of the bedroom that the fact that Isak is a boy and not just the wrong archetype is going to affect the way people see them.  It’s big and it’s scary, and it’s something Even has to think through before he finally casts the die and makes a choice that may be irrevocable.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s all softness and warmth, comfort and dreaminess, and Even feels content.  He’s lying with Isak’s nose pressed against his chest and his arm thrown casually around his waist.  Isak’s lips are slightly open, giving a glimpse of his teeth.  There’s something ridiculously domestic about this situation, and Even can feel his heart expand just looking at him.  Sun streams into the room, but it’s muted behind the curtains into a soft warm glow which bathes Isak’s curls in amber, making them even more beautiful.  They’re standing out like a halo around Isak’s head, making Even’s head swim with the sheer beauty of it all.  He can’t help himself, and presses a kiss to one rogue curl that sticks up from Isak’s forehead and tickles Even’s chin, pressing it down into the masses again as he does so.

There’s nothing to break the stillness of the early morning, and Even feels a peacefulness he doesn’t deserve.  He’s living a lie and every moment he takes before telling Isak the truth, and admitting everything to Sonja, is another moment closer to disaster.  And yet … and yet, Even can’t bring himself to shatter this precious time with Isak.  So he snuggles closer, wrapping his own arms around Isak’s body and drawing him closer.  In response, Isak snuffles softly and throws one leg over Even’s.  Even’s heart stutters at how gentle and comfortable it all is.  He wants this, he craves it, and he didn’t realize how much until this moment.   _Just a few more minutes,_ he whispers to himself.   _Let him sleep for a little longer and then just tell him everything._  His eyes droop, getting heavier, and Even allows himself to bury his nose in Isak’s hair, drinking in the scent as he drifts back into sleep.

Even awakes again to a silent room.  The bed next to him is cold, and he reaches his hands out to find only empty sheets.  His heart clenches and he sits bolt upright, hoping Isak is sitting in the corner of the bedroom somewhere.  He’s not.  The room as he scans it is empty and Even has an unsettled feeling in the pit of his belly.   

He slips his feet over the side of the bed and drops them to the floor, hissing a little as his toes curl against the cool wood beneath him.  Even sits for a few moments, letting them get used to the sudden chill before getting up fully.  He’s stalling, and he knows it, but soon the anxiety sitting in the pit of his stomach gets too much to bear and Even finds himself padding out towards the kitchen and those voices.

At first glance it’s a normal morning scene.  Even’s mother is at the table with a cup of coffee steaming in front of her, and Isak is opposite with one of his own in his hands.  Even’s father is cooking eggs in the background, stirring them with an expert’s eye and throwing in a hint of seasoning.  It should be a cosy scene but it’s not.  There’s something subtly off in the way they’re all holding their bodies, his father’s a little tense as he stirs mechanically, his mother’s smile stiff and her hands flitting from her mug’s handle to wrap around the middle and back again.  Isak holds himself rigid, back ramrod straight and hands clenched.  Even is sensitive to the atmosphere around him as he slides into his own seat next to Isak.  He feels himself tensing up, his back stiffening as he takes in the silence of those around him and the way Isak’s eyes are firmly and deliberately averted from his.

“Hey,” he says, smiling at his mother and crinkling his eyes at Isak.

Is it his imagination, or does Isak slide slightly further away from him on his chair?

“Hi, Even,” his mother says, her voice clipped and strained today, though she’s clearly trying to appear casual.  Her fingers still follow their flitting pattern on the mug. “You want some coffee?”

“Oh.”  Even glances towards Isak, who’s still not looking at him, then looks over at her and shakes his head.  “Uh, no thanks.  I’m fine.”

“I was just getting reacquainted with Isak, here,” she says now, her teeth baring slightly and Even shudders.  

She knows.  That means Isak knows.  It’s all over, and everything he’d hoped for is gone.  Shit, _fuck._  It’s all coming down around him right here, right now and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

Isak nods at her words, his eyes flickering over to Even’s before he drops them again to look into his coffee.

“You didn’t tell me Isak was an Outcast, Even,” his mother carries on conversationally as if she doesn’t know she’s dropping a huge bomb into his life.  He blushes.

“I was going to,” he mutters.

“What was that, honey?  You were going to?  When?  Before or after you told Isak all about your own stuff?”

He refuses to look up, but even so Even can feel the gaze Isak turns on him, can feel the heat of the betrayal he feels.  It’s flowing off him in frantic waves, like a heartbeat that’s gone out of control.  Even realises it’s probably coming in time with Isak’s actual heartbeat and he shuts his eyes in pain.  In a sudden fit of bravery, Even looks at Isak, begging him with his eyes to listen.

“I promise.  I was going to tell you, today.”

“Today?” Isak asks, and his voice now that he’s finally speaking is so vulnerable and weak that Even feels an upsurge of protective instincts towards him.  There’s a streak in him which reaches out to those in need of protection or comfort and it’s strong now.  This particular beastly impulse has terrible timing and Even groans.

“I swear, I really was.  Isak, please.  You have to believe me.”

“I don’t, actually.” There’s cool steel in his voice now and it pains Even even more.  He did this; this is all his fault.  Isak is feeling this mess of vulnerable and angry feelings and it’s literally all Even’s fault.  “You let me believe a lot of stuff that isn’t true so why should I trust you now?”

As Even opens his mouth to speak, Isak carries on, his eyes fierce even as his voice cracks over what he’s saying.  

“You have a fucking girlfriend, Even, and you never bothered to mention that.”

“I … she … it’s …”

“Even,” His mother warns, and Even startles, having almost forgotten that she was there.  “You need to be honest, right now.  It’s important.”

Her voice is soft, but he can hears the insistence behind it.  This is the dominant mother telling the submissive son what he needs to do.  He sighs, nodding.  

“I know.  But this is the truth.”  He turns back to Isak.  “I like you, a lot.  A really _really_ scary lot.  But …” and he sighs briefly and eyes the table in front of him, tracing the patterns to avoid looking at Isak when he says this bit because he can’t stand to see the look in his eyes.  In some ways he’s being a coward right now, saying this with his parents here, but he needs them.  He needs someone at his back when he does this next bit, the bit that could push Isak away forever.  “But, I do have a girlfriend, even if it’s not working right now.  And …” his shoulders drop as he makes this final confession, the one that will send Isak away forever, the one Even already knows is a deal breaker for him.  “... and I am a Beast.”

The words hang there in the kitchen, his father’s movements stilled beside the stove and his mother’s expression as he glances over at her is wary but proud.  Even slowly lifts his eyes back to Isak’s and the pain he sees there is intense, and it settles something cold and dark onto his chest.

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Isak says, and there are tears in that voice now, tears that eat at Even’s heart.  “All that talk, _fuck_.  You even mentioned Beasts the other day.”

“You don’t care?”

Even can feel a slight lessening of the anxiety and the chill.  Maybe he can salvage this, maybe they can do something with it.  Maybe there’s hope after all.  But then Isak destroys that hope.

“I didn’t say that.  I said I _wouldn’t_ have cared.  I do care, I care a shitload that you didn’t trust me with this.  You let me think you’re an Outcast too.  Fuck.  You let me kiss you thinking there was a chance, when you _knew._  You knew all along.  You let me spill my soul to you.” He stopped, gasping for breath, the tears now showing in the corners of his eyes, and Even can feel his own heart shattering when he continues.  “Was it funny?  Did it make you feel cool to fool me?”

His lip is wobbling as he gets the last words out and the tears almost spill over, but don’t quite.  Even thinks he’s probably forgotten Even’s parents sitting here with them, his attention is so tightly focused on Even and they’re being so very quiet.  He has to resist the urge to reach over and still Isak’s lip and wipe the tears.  He knows that’s not a good idea right now, and forces his hands to stay clenched at his sides.  He injects as much sincerity as he can into his own voice.

“No.  Shit, Isak.  It wasn’t like that.  I just … I didn’t want to scare you off.”

He can hear how small and timid his voice sounds and he winces.

“Well, guess what?” Isak asks, the sarcasm a thin facade over the obvious stress and misery.  “Congratulations, you did.  You did scare me off.  You lied to me, about so much shit.  How can I even look at you now?  I can’t trust you.  Fuck!!”

Even’s mother is stirring uneasily across the table and Even panics.  He needs to stop this tirade, stop the profanities before his mother gets really anxious and shows off her beastliness. Before she calls attention to herself and drives Isak away before they can work through everything.  She’s never been able to keep calm when people curse, and she’s always worse when there’s tension humming in the air like there is right now.  Even reaches out and grabs Isak’s hand.

“Isak, _please.”_  He can hear the desperation in his voice as he begs, but he can’t help it.

Isak pulls his hand away.  “No.  Don’t touch me.”  He stands up.  “Don’t come near me.  I need to get out of here.”  He takes a breath, looks around at Even’s shellshocked parents taking them in finally and blushing as he realizes everything he’s said in front of them.  He visibly tries to calm down, taking a deep breath and smiling broadly at them.  The false mask sits over his misery, but is incapable of concealing it and Even feels his own heart plummeting as he watches the practiced expression slide into place. 

“It was lovely to meet you properly,” Isak says, reciting the words as if by rote, his voice cracking and his hands shaking as he tries to remain calm.  “Thank you for breakfast, but I have to … I have to go.”

Even gets out one weak, “Isak …” before he’s disappeared down the hallway and out the door, the thud as it closes sounding final in the reverberating stillness of the kitchen.  It’s a harsh ending to a vibrant dream, and all Even is left with is the ruin of his life around his feet.

The rest of the day is so much harder than Even had expected.  He sits alone in his room staring around and grimacing.  Everything he sees reminds him of Isak.  The fucking pictures on his wardrobe bring to mind the beautiful curve of his mouth as he complimented them.  The couch where they watched movies and kissed mocks him, and don’t even get him started on the bed where they lay in such peace just a few hours ago.  He drags his eyes away and drops his head into his hands.  He should have expected this.  Just last night Even was thinking about what he would do and how he would deal with people finding out about Isak.  He forgot, in his excitement, to consider that there was another person in the mix, another person who had thoughts and feelings of his own and a say in everything.  Unfortunately, that knowledge has intruded spectacularly today and Even is left with this mess.

With an angry groan, he scrubs his hands over his face, dragging the skin until it’s painful and he lets go, a burning redness left in the wake of his hands.  Fuck.  It’s all his own fault, too.  He’d known he should tell Isak, let him know everything, and yet he was too cowardly to do it and now look where he is.  He’s alone, left with the remnants of everything he could have had.  Worse, he’s still trapped in the relationship with Sonja and there’s no possible hint of a way out now.

The door clatters with a hesitant knock and Even jumps, startled out of his morose thoughts.  He looks at himself in the mirror and decides that the wild-eyed, messy-haired asshole staring back at him passes enough muster to see people.

“Yeah?” he calls out, irritation seeping into his voice.

“Even?  Can I come in?”

It’s his father.  Even gulps, then yelps, “sure,” before hastily standing and taking a couple of shaky steps towards the door.  He’s not sure why he’s so anxious, but his father hardly ever comes into this room so it always feels immense and important when he does.

His father perches on the couch, his body curled in and his eyes flitting around the room never really landing on anything.  His nerves send waves of anxiety through Even in return and he can feel the feedback beginning, where they will each ramp up the other’s emotional turmoil.  He forces himself to calm down; it’s his room, his space, and so it’s his responsibility to stop feeding the emotions.

It doesn’t look like his father’s in any hurry to speak so Even takes over.  “What’s up?” Even asks, even though he’s sure he knows.  

“Those are some nice pictures, son,” his father says, procrastinating to avoid the real intent of his visit, and waving his hand at the doodles lining the wardrobe door.  

Even’s eyes slip closed in pained memory and he nods his thanks.  He’s done now, knows if he tries to speak again his voice will wobble over the syllables and bring further distress, so he lets the silence sit between them.  His father clears his throat eventually and gets to the point.

“You … uh.  You want to talk about what happened this morning?”

“Not really, no.”

“Even, what is this?  What were you thinking?”

Even shrugs, turning away.  He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t need to be reminded yet again about all the shit he’s done to people in his life over the last few weeks.  The memory of the hurt in Isak’s eyes as he’d spouted his final words before leaving, burns into the back of Even’s eyelids and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop seeing it.

Finally, his father steels his back and stands to walk over to Even.  “A shrug won’t do it,” he says, his voice firmer than Even can remember ever hearing it.  “This boy … you knew he’s an Outcast?”

Even pulls his eyes away from his father’s gaze and nods.  “Yeah,” he whispers as he hears the brief annoyed sigh his father lets out.

“You knew, and you still led him on?”

“It wasn’t like that!”  Even’s voice is anguished now.  “I like him!”

“Son.  You have to see how unfair that was.  You have Sonja, and you’re a Beast.  This was never going to work.”

Even’s shoulders slump, defeated.  He nods.  He knows.  “I just wanted … I wanted something else.”

His father shakes his head.  “You’re a dreamer, son, and you have to stop it.  This kid, he didn’t know, and I could see how hard that was for him.”

“I know,” Even whispers.  “I was going to tell him, but …”

The look his father gives him says it all.  It’s exasperated and fond, but most of all incredulous.  “Give this up.  Stick to your own kind.  That’s the only way, Even.  We can’t go around deciding what we’re going to do, and ignoring the basic nature of society.  Imagine how unstable everything would be.”

Even shakes his head.  He wants to protest, he wants to shout about how amazing it could all be, how he could be allowed to be himself if he weren’t stuck with ‘I’m a Beast’ pummelling him every day and taunting him with everything he’s not.  He doesn’t care how ‘unstable’ that would make everything; it would be freedom and lack of pressure.  It could surely not be any worse than this.

As if he can read Even’s mind, his father shakes his head.  “Do you know anything about history?”

Even’s brows knit together and he shrugs.  This doesn’t seem like the right moment for a lesson.  His father’s lips twitch in an ironic smile as if he knows exactly where Even’s thoughts just went.

“You’re not the first to think like this.  Remember what happened to Icarus when he rejected his archetype and blasted off into the sun in pursuit of a wild idea of his own.”

“Icarus?  Seriously, Pappa?  You’re going with a myth designed to keep us all in line?”

“It’s a morality tale, Even.  The point is to tell us what life would be like if --”

Even sighed and rolled his eyes.  “This isn’t history, it’s fantasy.  It’s only purpose is to keep us in our place and I’m sick of it.”

Even’s father suddenly stands and his voice when he speaks is so much louder than Even’s ever heard it before.  He’s clearly annoyed that Even’s not paying attention to the core of what he’s saying, and the irritation he’s feeling is bleeding into his tone.  “It’s _not_ just fantasy though, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What about real people who’ve crashed, Even?  Amalie Skram, for one.  I know you must have studied her in school.”

Even shrugs.  He’d liked her story well enough and her books were okay, but she seems irrelevant now.

“What about her?  That she was stuck in an awful marriage just because it was a suitable archetypal one?”

“No, not that.  That was unfortunate.” And here Even’s father casts a quick glance his way and gives Even a nod as if to say that he sees and understands why unhappy marriages might be something of a sore point for him.  He takes another breath, calming himself, and then adds, “more the way she became even more unhappy after they divorced when she tried to do things another way.”

“That doesn’t make it true, though.”

“Even, you don’t understand.  We have stories like Icarus for a reason.  It’s a warning from down through the ages in the only way they knew how.  The warning is to try to prevent anyone else suffering like Amalie did.  It’s not just a story.”

“I wouldn’t suffer,” Even tried, but his father snorted.

“You already are suffering, and you barely even tried with this boy.”

“Isak.”

“Huh?”

“His name is Isak, not boy.”

“Okay.  Isak then.  But the point stands.  Look at you.”  He waved his hand at the messed up pyjamas Even was still wearing and the decidedly unstyled hair.  “And more than that, look in your heart.  You’re not happy right now.”

“I’m not happy with Sonja, either.  And Isak …” Even trailed off, his voice dangerously close to breaking, and tearing his eyes away from his father’s gaze.  “You don’t understand how it was.  It was … it was …” he stopped again, then whispered, “amazing.”

He’s not even sure if his father has heard him, but he feels a hand clasping his shoulder.  “Son.  Even.  If you won’t do it for yourself, think of him.  Think of how he felt today.”

All fight goes out of Even and his shoulders slump.  There was nothing his father could have said that would have convinced him.  Except this.  As selfish as he’d like to be, as much as he’d like to say fuck it to the world and go after whatever he wants, Even knows that he wants to be fair to Isak.  He’s the most important thing here, and Even will do whatever he has to in order to keep him happy.  That flash of Isak’s eyes as he left this morning crashes into Even’s mind again.  He can’t do anything that might put that look back into his eyes.

“It’s not … not …” Even sighs.  “He doesn’t want to see me anyway.”

“But even if he did.  Even, you have to understand it’s not just your life you’re playing with here.”

“I know.  I know, Pappa.”  Even drags in a breath.  “I’m not going to do anything.”

“You’ll stick with Sonja?”

Even’s face twists in agony.  “I … uh.  I’d rather not.  It’s not … I’m not happy.”

His father’s expression is sympathetic but his voice is hard when he speaks.  “You need a Beauty, Even, and she’s always been good for you.”

Even nods and feels his heart sliding again.  No Isak and now a return to the trapped feeling he’s been having for so long.  It hurts.

“Just until you find someone else.  Another Beauty.”  He pats Even’s shoulder again.  “You don’t have to marry her, but just … stick it out for a bit.  It’s for the best.”

He leaves then, his feet thumping heavily on the floor as he fades into the distance.  Even’s head remains bowed as he listens.  It’s hard, and he’s not sure he’s convinced by the arguments about Icarus and Amalie Skram -- there’s something niggling there that he can’t quite put his finger on -- but the bits about Isak.  Those are compelling, and Even knows his father is right.

That knowledge leaves a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, but he’s resigned now.  His best bet is to stay away from Isak.  It’d hurt too much to see him and be near him and not be able to hold him.  Having known how wonderful it was to feel Isak’s affection last night, Even doesn’t think he can bear to be close to him again and not be able to experience that peaceful joy anymore.

How did he let himself come to this?  Just a few short days ago Even was still telling himself that he couldn’t go out of archetype.  He should have listened to himself.  He should have stopped the infatuation with Isak before it got out of hand.  Now he’s hurt both of them for no gain.  His father is right, he needs to pull back and be sensible.  There’s no helping the fact that both he and Isak are hurting right now, but that doesn’t mean he has to make it worse.  Forgetting it is definitely the best answer.  No matter how much that shreds Even’s heart.

It’s with a sinking feeling in his chest that he texts Sonja.  Her response is immediate and remarkably cheerful.  Even can only assume that his parents haven’t contacted her already.  He can’t tell if he’s pleased because he doesn’t need them interfering in his damn life anymore, or if he’s pissed off because now he has to do it himself.  And he does have to.  His father’s words all made sense, Even knows, and he should take them to heart.  But despite knowing that staying away from Isak is the best idea, Even can’t help but compare the experiences of the past two days with everything he’s shared with Sonja and he can’t bring himself to pretend anymore.  With Sonja it’s always been good, pleasant; it even felt right at times.  Even loves her, he’s aware that those feelings still exist, and yet he’s not in love with her.  Not anymore.  It took a few conversations and a few soft kisses with someone more compatible to show him, but now he’s seen it he can’t deny it.  So.  Despite knowing that the ‘proper’ thing to do would be to stick with her and use the bond between them for his own needs, Even can’t bring himself to be that selfish.  His father was insistent and Even wants to please him, but he can’t keep living this lie.

He sighs, his phone a dead weight in his hand, and texts her again.

_I think we should take a break._

Then he waits, his eyes fixed on the square of light, staring at it until his vision goes blurry.  It’s four long minutes before an answer appears.  Even feels every one of them as an hour.

_No.  Babe.  What is this?  Are you manic?_

Even realizes his teeth are gritted together.  Of course.  The only thing that could possibly be off in their perfect little relationship is if Even’s gone nuts.  He doesn’t think she even realizes how gross her assumptions are.  The anger is swirling again, pulsing red hot in the wake of his disappointment with Isak.  

_No.  It’s just not working.  You must see it too._

_Even.  Honey.  We have to talk about this_

She’s cajoling, trying to talk him around.  They’ve done this before when there’ve been fights.  He pulls back and she caresses with soft words and sweet gestures.  She’s playing the game as they always do, but he can’t play along this time.

_I don’t want to talk._

Her next words come in over a minute later.  He can sense the growing bafflement in what she’s saying.  She’s starting to realize he’s serious, or at least not acting the way they always have.

_You owe it to me._

Even grinds out a growl of frustration.  Why can’t she just accept it?  Why does she have to push back all the time?  Still.  She’s probably right; he’s had time to process but it’s come out of nowhere for her.  She’s been happy in their comfortable domesticity, and he’s never been very good at confrontation so he’s never let on to her that he wants something more.  She deserves at least some sort of explanation.

 _Okay,_ he sends back.   _But not today._

Even watches the bubbles appear and disappear as she obviously thinks and rethinks what she wants to say.  Eventually it comes through.  He can hear her tone, sharp and bitter, in the words she’s chosen.

_I’m working tomorrow so it'll have to be later.  After school._

There’s no heart or other sign of emotion and it feels weird.  It’s like looking at something twisted slightly, a mirror universe where things aren’t quite as they’re supposed to be.  This is what he wants, but Even still feels the weight of what he’s doing crushing down on him.  What if he’s wrong?  What if he does end up giving in entirely to the Beast if they break up?

Even knows he wants this, knows this is best for his peace of mind right now, but it’s hard to silence the voices that have been so insistent in his head.  He knows it’s the Isak effect, that the want he’s felt for the other boy has driven his thought process from ‘Sonja makes me unhappy but I have to stay with her or else the world will end’ to ‘Sonja makes me unhappy so I should try to be alone.’  It’s huge and scary and is the exact opposite of everything everyone else has been telling him, but Even has finally hit a wall.  He can’t have Isak, he realizes that now, but he can have some peace.  He doesn’t have to be with Sonja ‘just because’ it’s always been this way.  He can make his own choice.  That choice is going to come at a cost, but the relief Even can feel curling into his veins feels right and he’s willing to pay whatever it takes.

Walking into school on Monday feels nothing like it has the past few weeks.  Nothing’s changed.  The girls still follow him with their eyes and titter in delight as he passes by, the guys he’s befriended still smile when they see him and scoot over so he can sit on the benches, Sana still smirks when she spots him with his sunglasses on and his swagger going.  But there’s still a difference.  All his carefully cultivated image-enhancing quirks suddenly mean nothing because Even doesn’t feel cool anymore.  Anxiety breeds in his belly, sending spikes of chilled fear through his body.  He can’t fucking do this.

It’s weird how much he had relied on the knowledge of Sonja, like a faint irritating buzz in the back of his mind.  It was annoying, and he’d sigh and huff when she would micromanage his life, but she was always there, the rock who held him up from behind.  Technically Even knows he can back out, hold his hands up and step away from the precipice.  He can see her later today, hold her hand, kiss her and whisper a ‘sorry’ into her lips.  He knows it’d probably work, too.  The problem is that despite the fear and the worry the relief is still there, a small glow in the back of his heart.  It’s not strong enough to beat the chill, but it’s strong enough to make him want to.

He’s walking, head down and eyes on the ground to avoid any awkward contact with people when his head cracks backwards and a stinging pain lights up his forehead.

“Fuck,” he hears as if from a distance, and he winces.  

Pain lances through his head and settles behind his eyes, but that’s not the worst of it.  The worst is that he knows that fucking voice and it sounds just as irritated as it did the last time he heard it.

Even forces himself to look up, trying not to flinch as the movement sends another shaft of pain that turns his stomach and makes him wish he hadn’t eaten such a large breakfast.  The sour taste of the cereal sits uneasily as the pounding in his head intensifies.  Through the haze of pain, Even can see Isak.  He’s holding a hand to his head and grimacing, his eyes squinting and there’s a flash of fury in the gaze he sends Even.

“Isak.  I --”

“Don’t.  Don’t even try, Even.  I know this is all a fucking laugh to you, but for me --”

The pain and suppressed anger in that voice slice through Even and he bleeds his own selfishness out in a burst of shame.  

“It was never a laugh,” Even says quickly, ignoring the pain.  “It was all sincere, all of it.”

There’s panic there, Even knows, and it’s seeping into his own tone.  Isak glances at him and whatever he sees on Even’s face softens the hard planes of his own into something that almost resembles a smile.  He stares at Even for a long moment, his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed.

“I don’t understand why,” Isak says eventually.  “You could have told me the truth.”

There’s more confusion than anger on his face and in his voice now, but it still stabs at Even.  Looking closely, he can see the smudges under Isak’s eyes, stark against his too-pale face.  He’s so quiet, too, much quieter than usual, and the eyes he finally fixes on Even’s are a faded imitation of their sparkling selves.  He’s still stunning, beautiful in a way that makes Even’s heart ache with the desire to film him, to capture the fine bone structure, the way his head tilts as he thinks something through, and the way his lips sit, slightly pursed as if he’s holding himself carefully in check with his teeth planted firmly over them.  But the beauty is so fragile today, Isak’s cheeks seeming almost sunken, and his lips a harsh gash of red against the blank canvas of his skin.  Even gulps.  Isak’s not been sleeping, then.  Or he’s been stressed and upset enough to make him look so faded and washed out.  Either way, there’s not much guesswork involved in thinking it’s Even’s fault.  It’s such a vivid contrast to Friday’s delighted carefree version that Even swallows, dismay tasting sour in his mouth.

His instinct is to deny, to push it off onto someone else, to pretend the blame lay elsewhere.  That’s a beastly instinct, though, and Even fights it.  The guilt he feels at seeing Isak like this is so intense that Even can’t bring himself to say any of that, rejects the very thought of it.

“I’m sorry,” Even says softly.  “I should have told you.”

Isak blinks at him, his eyes unfocused and his brows knitted together.  “You’re not arguing?”

“No.  I was wrong.  I’ve been thinking about it all weekend, and I should have said something.  I was scared, but that was just an excuse.  You deserved to know and I deserve to be yelled at.  I’m an asshole, and I’m so sorry it was you who got affected by that.”

Isak shrugs, his shoulders tense under his blue jacket, and his eyes slide away from Even’s.  The chill inside Even is intensifying as the conversation moves on.  His head is still throbbing, but it’s the agony in his chest that holds his attention.  As much as Even has resigned himself to letting Isak go, it’s so hard to see him like this.  His father’s words echo in his mind.   _You have to understand it’s not just your life you’re playing with._  It’s true.  This moment here with Isak brings it all home.  He’s been playing with fire, recklessly doing whatever he wanted because his life wasn’t the way he’d always envisaged it.  And here’s the proof of all that he’s done wrong.  Isak, here, is in-the-flesh proof that Even’s desires are selfish and irresponsible.  

Isak licks his lips and Even’s eyes trace the movement as the tongue darts out.  Heat pools in his belly, and his hands itch to follow the tongue’s path with soft fingertips.  But he’s not for Even, and Even should have known better than to let himself give in to his desire in the first place.  This pull now, this desperate attraction that refuses to go away, is his punishment for ignoring his sensible head.  That it punishes Isak too, that he looks so haggard and wan, is just added guilt.  It’s clear that for Isak’s own good Even needs to do what he asked and stay away.

“I’m sorry, Isak.  I’ll … uh.  I’ll go.  Don’t worry, I won’t bother you again.”

He turns to leave but is halted by a hand on his arm.  

“You don’t …” Isak starts.  “Look, I was mad yesterday.  I just want you to know that I don’t think you were being an asshole.  And … uh.  Thanks.  For saying sorry.”

This time it’s Even who shrugs, his arms uncomfortable in his hoodie now, the material feeling tight across his shoulders as he draws in on himself.  Isak smiles, a small twist that transforms the sad planes of his face into something mesmerizing.  Even’s lips lift in response and he nods.  Isak removes his hand, but the warmth lingers and when Even turns to look back as he walks away, Isak is still standing there with the small sad smile fixed in place.  He catches Even’s eye and his mouth twitches briefly downwards before he drags a grin onto his face and turns the other way.

The memory of that meeting stays with Even all day.  Isak’s pale face and sad eyes haunt his through his remaining classes, and so he’s already exhausted emotionally when he pushes through the doors to KB and moves to meet Sonja.  She’s sitting at a table near the back of the room, her legs crossed neatly at the ankles and her body poised and elegant.  She looks put together and in control, and Even feels even more of a mess as he approaches her.

“Hey,” he says and she looks up.  Her eyes are dark and there are circles around them, reminding Even forcefully of Isak again.  He winces.  Will he ever stop fucking up good people?

“Hi, Even.” Her voice is tired and she’s avoiding his eyes.

“You want coffee?”

“I already ordered.”

She smiles, but it’s stiff and distant.  There’s no welcoming kiss and Even knows he should expect that.  But it’s disorienting, a ripple in the normal routine.  He goes to the counter, trying to drag himself together before he faces her again.  By the time he’s ordered his complex concoction and got back to the table, he’s a little steadier.

“So,” she says as they sit there waiting for their drinks.  “You want to break up?”

It’s so stark the way she says it, like a bell ringing time at the end of a school day.  He swallows against the sadness that swells up in his throat, and nods.

‘I … uh.  Yeah.  I do.”

“Why, though?  I don’t understand.  We work together perfectly.”

This is the hard bit.  How does Even say all the things that he’s been thinking?  How does he tell someone who’s literally done nothing wrong that he’s just over her, over who she is?  

“I’m not sure we do,” he says softly.  He’s staring at the table, his fingers tracing uneasy patterns in the uneven wood grain as he tries to avoid seeing her reaction.  Out of the corner of his eye he still catches her startled gasp and the way her body goes rigid at his words.

“Even …”

Her voice is shaking now and he feels like such an asshole.  As much as Isak said he wasn’t one, Even feels like he is.  He should have talked to her before this, before it got to this point.

“I’m just … not happy?”

He hates that there’s a question at the end, that he’s asking her yet again for reassurance and validation.  That’s not her job, should never be her job and yet they’ve fallen into this pattern.  The staff member from behind the counter brings their coffees over and for a long time they sit sipping them in silence.  It’s not the easy silence they’ve shared in the past, and Even can feel his shoulders knotting together as the tension creeps back up on him.

Sonja finally sets her cup down and speaks.

“There’s someone else.”

The steel is back in her voice now as she nods to herself.  Even sighs.  

“Sonja, it’s not like that.”

“No, it is.  It must be.  You’re not manic, I can tell, so there’s something else.  And it has to be someone else.”

“Why though?  Why can’t it just be that it’s not working?”

She shrugs and tilts her head to the side.  “I know you, Even.  You’re not likely to rock the boat if there’s nothing in it for you.”

She’s right, of course.  That’s part of having known each other for so long.  But she’s also so far wrong.  There is something in it for him, but it’s not someone else.  Not anymore.  His heart sinks at that thought, but Even knows it’s true.  

“There is something in it for me.  I get to figure out who I am as my own person and not as part of a pairing.”

Her eyebrows are creasing as she listens and there’s a frown on her lips.  She doesn’t understand.  Being part of a pairing is good for her; she enjoys the accolades and the approval of the people around her.  The burning desire to know who she is just isn’t there and so she’ll never get it.  

“You want this?”

“I really really do,” he says, hoping she’ll agree even though she doesn’t understand why he feels the way he does.

Her lips curve up into a fond smile and she reaches over to pat his hand.  “We can take a break,” she says, and her tone is one of a beneficent master gifting something to an underling.  It makes Even grit his teeth to avoid saying something regrettable.  “Just don’t take too long with this little finding yourself thing, okay?  I’ll still be here when you get over this … this phase.”

She stands up, presses a chaste kiss to his forehead and walks to the door.

He gapes at her retreating back, wondering how getting exactly what he wanted is making him feel so damn trapped?  How can she have managed to make him still feel like she was in control of that situation?  He shakes his head and turns back to his coffee.  It’s still warm, and he drinks it while pondering what just happened.  The relief is there, and it’s huge, a weight off his chest which feels lighter and much more free.  However, there’s dread there too.  It’s been so long since he was on his own with no-one to help regulate his moods.  How will he cope?  What fucked up shit is he going to do before he calls an end to this experiment?  As much as Even tries to convince himself that he won’t be like that, he knows everyone around him expects it to fall apart and he feels fragile enough right now to worry that they might all be right.

The next few days go by in a blur.  Even feels the weight of all eyes on him even more than he did on Monday.  In his most clear sighted moments, he knows that no-one is judging him any more than they did before, but he can’t help noticing the way their eyes slide towards him.  It doesn’t feel empowering anymore, it feels awful.  Even knows Isak isn’t likely to have told anyone that he’s a Beast, and that Sana wouldn’t either, but the fear is still there now that he has only himself to rely on.  They don’t know, no-one does, that Even carries this monster inside him, but unless he can control himself with a tight hand it’s only a matter of time before that Beast comes out and hurts someone.  The worst of it is that with only himself to ensure that he doesn’t become overbearing and aggressive on a destructive scale, Even knows he’s a ticking time bomb.  It won’t be long before he does something unforgivable.  The thought is horrifying.

Now every time someone bumps into him, Even finds himself shrinking away, desperate to keep his Beast instincts inside.  There’s no more quiet satisfaction at the way a kid will shiver in fear if he turns his eyes on them, there’s no more half-excited burst of pleasure when the rage starts to rise.  Now, that feeling is accompanied by a sick knowledge that he has no waiting Beauty to help tamp down the urges, no-one to calm him, nothing between him and another outburst like the one at Bakka.  That it had nothing to do with being a Beast, and everything to do with his bipolar, is irrelevant.  The fear is there and it eats at Even.

He sees Isak around school, looking better than he had on Monday but still not his true self.  His face is still wan, and he lifts tired eyes to Even’s sometimes and gives a weary smile.  Even’s instinct is still to go to him and cuddle away all the stresses in his life, to kiss away anything that’s wrong with him, to tuck him up under his arm and never let any harm come to him.  But that’s another beastly instinct and Even pushes it away too.  There’s no future there and any slip he makes in allowing his Beast to come out is another nail in the coffin, another step on the path to the inevitable moment when Even fucks up.  

He’s sitting in the cafeteria on Thursday, in a corner as far from other people as he can get.  His headphones are on and he’s successfully shut out all noise.  The chatter of the students and the clatter of the activity behind the counter has all dropped away and Even is content for a moment.  

From the corner of his eye he sees a small figure slip onto the seat next to him and he groans internally.  He’s been doing so well at avoiding others and it’s enabled him to keep his cool in a very pleasing manner.  Irritation wells up at this unwelcome intrusion into his isolation.  The feeling is so unexpected after so long successfully keeping himself calm that it startles Even and terrifies him.  Is this the beginning of the fucking up?

“Halla,” Sana says, finally breaking into his thoughts.  He glances over at her and catches a frown on her forehead and a quizzical look in her eyes.

“Hey, Sana.  How are you?”

“Fine,” she says, and her eyes are still fixed on him.  “You’re not, though.”

The voice is firm, sure, and Even grimaces.  Is he that obvious?  Can she see incipient anger welling up, can she tell he’s about to explode?  Is he not keeping as good a control on himself as he’d hoped?  As if she knows what he’s thinking, Sana shakes her head.

“Nei, Even.  You’ve not been yourself, you’re always alone now, you don’t smile.  It’s clear that something’s wrong.  Besides … Sonja called Elias.”

Even’s head whips up at that, cold flooding him as panic sets in.

“What .. what did she say?”

Sana shrugs.  “That you’re having a break.”

Even nods, the sharp stab of fear at the mention of his old friend’s name starting to ebb away.  “We are.”

“I thought that was something you’d be happy about.  You didn’t seem like you wanted to be with her last time we talked.”

Even doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s thankful for this.  There’s no-one else he can talk to.  Sonja’s obviously out, there’s no-one at this new school he feels comfortable enough with.  His parents are not happy with him and don’t want to discuss any of it with him.  He feels like Isak could have been a possibility, but he’s not someone Even can think about now.  So the fact that Sana is here and offering this feels like a blessing he doesn’t deserve.  But he’ll take it.

“I just want to know what it’s like to be me, just me.  Not the Beast.”

Sana nods slowly, processing this information.  “She doesn’t seem like she thinks it’s going to last.”

“Yeah,” Even sighs, “I figured.  She thinks it’s a phase.”

“It’s not?”

Even shakes his head.  “No.”  It’s the one thing he’s sure of.  Everything else is teetering on a knife edge, but that is the one sure thing.  He may be terrified of fucking everything up, but Even’s still relieved that he’s out of his relationship.

Sana glances behind him, smiles, then fixes her eyes on him.  “What about Isak?”

“What about him?”

“What’s happening with him?”

“You think there’s something?”

Sana rolls her eyes.  “You forget, I’m a Seer.  It was obvious there was something.  But both of you seem down a bit this week.  Did something go wrong?  Is it because he’s an Outcast?”

There’s a lump sitting in his throat now, and Even shakes his head.  “No, he’s perfect.  It’s not him; it’s because I’m an asshole who tried to hide everything.  I fucked it all up because I wasn’t straight up with him.”

Someone behind him clears their throat and Even startles.  Sana’s smile becomes wide as she turns to the people who have just appeared.  Even’s heart is hammering, a sick feeling building in his stomach as he turns around.  How much did they hear?  His eyes catch Isak’s, and the shellshocked look on Isak’s face makes Even’s smile become tight.  Jonas is standing in front of Isak with a considering look on his face, and there are two other guys Even doesn’t know.  One is standing to the side looking excited as his gaze bounces from Even to Isak, and the other looks thoughtful.

“You … uh.  You didn’t fuck anything up,” Isak says now, his voice soft as he looks directly at Even.  He looks sad, but his eyes are happier than Even’s seen them in a long time.

“I wish I could believe that,” Even says, looking down in confusion.  “But I should have done everything differently.”

He allows himself to look at Isak again, and his heart speeds up as he sees the way Isak is looking at him.  He swallows and it’s like that day at his house when they first kissed, like the oxygen has been dragged out of the room and all that’s left is Isak.  

“I think we should be leaving, don’t you, boys?”  Jonas says abruptly, grabbing the two new guys by their arms and starting to move backwards.  

Isak sends him an exasperated glance, but Sana jumps to her feet nodding.  She pushes Isak forward and drops him into the chair she had just been sitting on.  Even can feel the anxiety starting to boil in him, sending cold waves of fear through his veins and making his hands tremble.  He can’t bring himself to make eye contact with Isak as he hears the others moving away, with a new voice loudly wondering what gay conversations are like.  The absurdity of the question bubbles a laugh up in Even and he finds himself snorting.  He hears Isak’s reluctant chuckle, and finally lets himself look up again.

“So,” Isak says.  “I guess we’re supposed to talk?”

“I guess so.”

They sit like that for a few moments before Even laughs again.  “It seems like ‘gay conversations’ involve very few words, then.”

Isak laughs with him.  “Seems like it.”  He looks at Even briefly before shrugging.  “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

Isak reddens and he almost whispers the next words as if he can’t quite believe them.  “That I’m perfect.”

“Oh.”  Even can feels the flush creeping up his own neck and he’s powerless to stop it.  “Yeah, I did.”

“I thought you didn’t really like me.”

There’s pain in that voice and Even closes his eyes against the sting it brings.

“I do.  I do like you.  A lot.  A really _really_ scary lot,” he repeats from that fateful conversation in his kitchen.  The brief twitching of Isak’s lips says he remembers too.  “I’m just … I’m always worried about how people will react when they know I’m … you know.”

Isak nods, catching on quickly that Even doesn’t want his type spoken aloud in this public space.

“I don’t care,” Isak says now, his voice fierce as if he can convince Even with just the force of his personality.  “I just wish you’d trusted me.”

“I know.  I’m--”

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, Even, I swear I’m going to punch you.”

His voice is light, teasing now and Even’s tension immediately starts to dissipate, enough that he feels more confident teasing himself.

“But I am!  You shouldn’t block a man from an apology.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but there’s an easier smile on his lips.  “I believe you,” he says softly.

"I need to tell you I broke up with Sonja."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I did."  It feels huge, as an admission, and Even sighs it out as if it's something precious.  "I just needed to figure out who I am without a Beauty."

Isak swallows, his eyes soft as he glances over at Even.  He gets it, clearly, how big it is for Even to say this.  "I'm glad.  That's ... that's a big thing."

"Yeah," Even nods, relief flooding him.  Admitting it to someone outside of Sonja feels remarkably freeing.  He takes a sudden chance.  “Can we … can we start over?”

Even’s hopeful.  All the aggression from the previous weekend is gone from Isak and he seems more likely to be willing to listen now.

“Start over how?”

“Just … talk maybe?  Be honest with each other?”

Isak nods.  “Yeah.  Yeah I think that’d be chill.”

He smiles, a blossoming beauty that spreads across his face in a way that lights it up with a spectacular glow.  Even can feel his own worries disappearing alongside it.  It puzzles him; this sort of calm is supposed to happen only with Beauties.  Isak’s not even touching him, there’s no purpose in that smile.  He’s not _trying_ to calm Even’s beastly instincts, but it’s happening anyway.  He doesn’t understand it, but Even is profoundly grateful for it.  His answering smile makes Isak’s widen even further, and this sort of feedback loop is one Even thinks he could be really happy to live with.  For the first time since he cut ties with Sonja, Even feels like he’s not on the edge of a cliff ready to destroy everyone around him.  For the first time he feels hope.

They make plans to meet at Isak’s house on Friday.  They don’t discuss it, but there’s an unspoken agreement that Even’s room is too charged with memories.  Even’s thankful, but he’s also nervous.  He hasn’t met Isak’s friends, not properly, and he has no idea what this Eskild he lives with might be like.  It feels like it might be some sort of test.  Which he deserves, clearly, but that knowledge doesn’t make the idea any easier.

He breathes quietly, and shakes his hands nervously as he approaches the door.  He’s still hovering there when Isak opens the door to him and pulls him into a hug.  Even allows himself to breathe a little easier as he wraps his arms around Isak.  He buries his nose in Isak’s hair and drinks in his scent.  It’s a mixture of shampoo and musk and Even finds himself smiling as he tightens his arms briefly.  Isak lets him go, and whispers, “hi,” as he turns to lead Even into the apartment.

It’s open and bright, welcoming with furniture that looks used and has a lived-in feel.  There’s a sad looking girl on one couch and an energetic man leaping off another, his kimono fluttering behind him and making him look like a butterfly.

“You must be Even!” The man exclaims, pulling Even into an enthusiastic handshake.  “I’m Eskild.  I’m Baby Gay’s professional guru and looker-afterer.”

“Eskild!”  Isak protests.  “Don’t call me that; you know I don’t like it.”

“Oh, but it’s the truth, and as your guru, I feel I need to help you come to terms with yourself.”

“Fuck off.  I’m already on good terms with myself.”

Even’s fascinated.  This dynamic is relaxed and carefree, and despite his protestations Isak is clearly unphased by Eskild’s manner.  He wonders what type Eskild is as he’s never met anyone quite like him before.  He’s a nurturer, that much is clear, but there’s something under it, a sense of power and a solid understanding of his own worth.  His words may be teasing, but there’s strength behind them.

Eskild putter around, directing everyone to seats that satisfy him.  In the end, Even is perched on the seat next to Eskild and Isak has been placed with the sad girl on the other couch.  Once he’s happy with everyone’s seating arrangements, and has flitted out to put water on to boil for coffee, Eskild turns to Even with a stern look.

“Now, Even. As Isak’s guru, and with no family here to do it, it falls to me to do the interrogation.”

Eskild’s kind and his voice is light, but Even can hear the seriousness behind the tone.  He knows this is something Eskild feels strongly about.  

“Okay,” he says, nodding.  “What do you want to know?”

“Baby Gay has been unhappy lately,” he says, ignoring Isak’s protesting, “Eskild” in the background.  His voice hardens when he adds, “I want to know what you thought you were doing.”

“I … uh.”

Even winces.  This is much harder than even the conversation with his father.  Isak’s sitting right there, looking both hopeful and incredibly small and vulnerable with his knees drawn in to his chest, his arms wrapped around them and his eyes fixed on Even’s face.  Eskild looks fierce, and ready to take Even apart limb by limb as he takes on his watchdog persona.

“I …” Even takes a deep breath then looks at Isak, silently asking him to listen before turning back to Eskild.  “I’ve said all this to Isak before, but I was scared he’d run away if I told the truth.  I’m a Beast, and I’m a shitty person and I selfishly wanted to keep seeing the look on his face that said I was worth something.”

“You are worth something,” Isak says softly as Eskild stares at Even, weighing up his words.

“That’s pretty stupid of you,” Eskild says and Even laughs.  It’s been so long since anyone has so bluntly said something like that to him that it feels refreshing.  Eskild smiles now, something small and precious, and Even feels his breath starting to come more easily.  He can survive this.  Eskild is serious, but not aggressive; Even doesn’t have to have his hackles up.  He’s allowed to relax.

“I know.  I never claimed to be smart.”

“You know what I’m going to say, right?” Eskild continues.  “If you hurt him again, I will personally hunt you down and cut off your balls.”

Even nods, keeping his face as serious as he can.  The idea of this man, with his blue silk kimono and his puppy dog eagerness doing something as aggressive as cutting off balls makes him want to laugh, but he knows he shouldn’t.  

“That’s serious business,” he says with a smirk.

“Yes it is, Even.  Because I’m a serious man.”

This time Even does laugh, a second before Isak’s own chuckle rings out.

“I can tell you mean business,” Even says gravely once he’s composed himself.  “Isak just threatened to punch me.”

“You said that, Baby Gay?”

Isak growls, scowling as he nods.

“I’m impressed,” Eskild says.  “Maybe I can leave you in this guy’s hands.  Look at you,” he coos, getting up and squishing Isak’s cheeks, earning another growl and hands batting his away from Isak’s face.  “You’re all grown up and defending yourself.”

“Fuck _off,_ Eskild!”

Eskild turns back to Even with a genuine smile.  “In all seriousness, you seem okay.  But are you sure being a Beast, and you know going out of archetype so to speak, isn’t going to--”

“To make me fuck with him?”  Even frowns, uncertain.  “I can’t guarantee it won’t; all I can do is promise I’ll try.  And if it feels like it’s going wrong I’ll pull it back.  That is I will if … if Isak wants me to bother trying at all.”

He turns to Isak now, his brow raised in question.  It’s the first time they’ve said anything more than ‘hey let’s talk,’ and the suggestion that there could be something more is a fragile hope that he’s only starting to allow himself to have.  After all, Outcasts are known to want to stay within their own type if they pair up at all.  But there’s the memory of the small hint of Isak chafing against his own type, wanting to be something else, something different.  Maybe … maybe they can be different together.

Isak swallows and his eyes darken as he keeps his gaze steady on Even’s.  “I do want you to.”

The tension is suddenly thick around them, and Even feels his heart beating faster once more, but this time the sensation is pleasant.  There’s promise in the air now, and it feels like some barrier was just broken.  He sucks in a deep, relieved breath and grins at Isak who smiles back, his eyes warm and happy.

“I think that’s my cue to escort you princelings to another room and take my beloved Linn out for a nice drink.”

“I don’t want to go out,” the sad looking girl, Linn, mutters from her position on the couch.

“Oh but my angel, you can’t let me go out alone.  Think of the troubles I could get myself into without you to be my moral compass.”

She rolls her eyes.  “I don’t think that’s an issue, Eskild.”

“Well, I don’t want to be rude, but I suspect you won’t want to stay here,” Eskild says, indicating towards Isak and Even with his head and winking ostentatiously.

A blush appears high on Isak’s cheeks and he grabs Even’s hand and pulls him in the direction of the hallway.  He tugs him into what must be his bedroom before dropping Even’s hand.

The door shuts behind them, and Isak leans back against it with dark eyes fixed on Even’s face and his lower lip clamped between his teeth.  His hands are behind his back, as if casually, but Even can see the tension lining his body.  He holds a hand out and smiles, trying to look as gentle as he can.

“Hey.  Come here,” he says invitingly, and Isak’s smile widens in response.

Even forces himself to stand still, to let Isak take the steps that remove the distance between them.  He owes it to him, Even knows.  It’s been Even who’s been creating that distance, and hurting Isak.  He backed away when Isak asked him to, so Even feels like he should let Isak be the one who takes the step.   _Isak_ deserves to have the say in whether he feels healed enough to do this.  He gets to decide if he wants Even back or not.

It seems like a hundred years between Even’s words and the moment Isak takes the first step.  Even holds his breath right up until the moment when Isak is standing directly in front of him and takes his face in his hands.  It’s only then that Even allows himself to breathe out and mirror the gesture, his thumbs rubbing on Isak’s cheeks.

Isak’s eyes slide closed and he sighs, a contented sound, and Even leans forward to press a kiss to his lips.  It’s like coming home, as cheesy as that idea is.  Even hasn’t realized just how much he’s missed this until right now.  They haven’t even kissed very often, just that one blissful evening, and yet the time since then has been torture. Isak appears to feel the same way, as his lips fall open and he welcomes Even’s tongue in.

Even pulls back to search Isak’s eyes.  They’re hooded and the gaze he turns on Even is hungry.  Still, Even feels like he should give him another chance to pull back.

“Do you … do you think we should talk?”

“I’m sick of talking,” Isak says, his voice ragged.  

He presses another kiss to Even’s lips and Even allows himself to melt into it, feeling the gentle press of Isak’s hands on his face and the electrical delight of his lips on Even’s.  He tries again, though, desperate to be sure.

“We said we’d talk.”

“Yeah.  We will.  But everything important has been said and I …” he kissed Even again.  “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Okay,” Even says before pressing his own kisses to the soft spot under Isak’s ear and revelling in the moan that draws out of him.

They kiss again and again until Even is breathless and panting, his heart stuttering with the sheer joy of this moment.  Somehow they’ve moved and Isak is now pushing him down onto the bed and sliding next to him.  Even’s breath catches again at this blatant hint at where this is leading.

“Are you sure?” he asks and Isak nods, his eyes on Even’s and such certainty in them that Even sighs his happiness.  It’s been a very long time since anyone looked at Even like that, like he’s something precious and desired.  Like he has something to offer beyond the physical.

Even reaches out his hand and slides it down Isak’s side.  He watches in fascination as the skin under Isak’s shirt responds to his touch, tensing a little as his hand slips lower.  Even stops at the waistband and he looks back up into Isak’s eyes.

“Can I?” he asks.  He can hear the lust in his voice and it’s so fucking much.  

Isak’s eyes instantly widen at the question and he nods, breathing out a soft “yeah” as he does so.  He falls back on the bed as Even quickly pops the button on the jeans and pulls the zip down.  The noise is loud in the still room, highlighted by the panting sounds they’re both making.

It feels so important, this moment, and Even wants to get it right.  He smiles and presses a kiss to the skin just above the waist of Isak’s now-visible boxers.  Isak’s cock is straining against the soft cotton and Even can see the pre-cum pooling and making a small wet patch right under the spot Even’s lips just reverently touched.  Isak shifts, lets out a small whimper and it pulls Even’s attention back to his face.

He looks wrecked, his eyes wide and his head thrown back against the pillow.  Even shifts so he can lean over and kiss Isak, allowing his body to cover Isak’s.  He allows his legs to drop open giving Even space to settle between them.  It draws attention to Even’s own straining dick and he presses softly against Isak.

“Can I touch you?” Even asks, needing this now.  He wants to feel it, find out how someone else’s cock feels in his hand, how soft it is, how warm.  He needs to know what Isak sounds like as Even strokes him.

Isak’s cheeks redden, but his voice is strong when he says, “yes.”

Keeping his eyes on Isak’s, revelling in the way they’re filled with trust, Even slips his hand under the waistband of the boxers and finally feels Isak’s cock, hard and hot in his hand.  Isak’s eyes close briefly and he whispers, “faen” as Even’s hand closes around him.

“Good then?”

“Jesus fuck, Even, are you going to chat through this?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Well stop; you’re ruining the moment.”  Isak’s eyes are bright with laughter as he speaks, before groaning out another “faen,” as Even keeps moving his hand.

Even feels the delight as he laughs, his hand moving slowly, taking in the feel of Isak in his hand, the way it slips a little as he reaches the head and the slick pre-cum still gathered at the tip provides more friction.  Isak’s gasping now, writhing a little, and Even adds a little twist of his wrist the way he likes when he does this to himself.  Isak’s back arches off the bed and Even crows internally.  

The elastic of the boxers’ waistband is cramping his style though, so he stops momentarily to push them down and give him free access to Isak’s cock.  Isak’s groan of protest is swallowed in the kiss Even gives him as he takes him in hand again.  Even speeds up the rhythm of his hand as he slips his tongue into Isak’s mouth.  The resulting moan sends heat straight to his own dick and he can feel it throbbing in his pants.  Even pulls back a little to appreciate Isak’s reddened lips and flushed cheeks against the pillow.  He stays like that, his attention now on the way Isak’s face changes as he gets closer to his release.  His mouth drops open and he can’t keep his eyes on Even’s.  They flutter closed and he’s moaning “faen faen faen” over and over as Even’s hand speeds up.

Soon Isak’s belly tenses, and his body twists up.  He stays there for a long moment, his mouth open and his eyes fixed on Even’s before finally his cum is shooting out and over Even’s hand.  It’s warm and sticky and the sensation of it on his hand is just about the best feeling Even’s ever had.  

“Fuck,” Isak sighs as his body relaxes and he falls back onto the bed.  “That was fucking …”

“Good?”

The green eyes open and there’s a cheeky grin now on those slick, reddened lips.

“Fucking good, yeah.  It’s not like when I’m, you know, alone.”

“No,” Even says quietly.  “It’s not.”

Isak turns his gaze to Even now and says, “your turn.”

“That’s okay.  You don’t have to.”

Isak’s hand is sliding down Even’s body and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want this.  But he doesn’t want to pressure Isak and it seems like Isak’s had basically no experience at all.

“I want to,” Isak says firmly, his eyes on Even’s and his fingers playing with the ties on Even’s sweatpants.

He’s waiting for Even’s go ahead, so he nods, then swallows before saying, “yeah.  Yes.  Please.”

That’s all Isak needs before he’s got both hands on the waistband and is pulling the pants down.  His fingers accidentally collect the boxers Even’s wearing on the way, with the result that he’s immediately exposed as the sweats are pulled to his knees.  Isak stares at him for a long moment, before reverently reaching out one finger to touch his dick.  He draws a line from the base to the head and it’s enough to make Even groan in hungry need.  His dick is rigid and aching and all he wants is some firm pressure on it.  

As if Isak can hear the thoughts, he wraps his hand around it and moves it up once, experimentally.  Even that small touch is enough to make Even moan.  It’s been a long time, too long, since he was touched like this, with fascination and interest.  Too often his experiences these days are pragmatic -- do what you need to do to get the job done as fast as you can.  But this is Isak’s first experience and he’s playful, wants to learn.  He wants to make this good for Even, and that thought’s almost enough to make Even come immediately.  Isak’s eyes meet Even’s as he copies the twist Even had made and Even pants, heat building behind his balls.

“Fuck.  Isak, _fuck.”_

And that’s enough to spur Isak on, his hand speeding up as he gains confidence.  It’s not going to take long, Even realizes; he’d enjoyed what he’d done to Isak so much that he’s already close.  His body reacts, his balls drawing in a little and his belly tensing in preparation.

“I’m going to … Isak, fuck …” he can barely get the words out, his voice is so ragged.

Isak’s thumb rubs across the tip of Even’s dick on the upstroke and that does it.  The pressure on the sensitive point drives Even over the edge and suddenly his release is shooting out in long ropes that hit high on his chest and even land on Isak who’s watching the display in fascination and something that looks like awe.

He raises his gaze to Even’s and grins, the pure joy beaming out of his eyes, and Even surges up to wrap him in a hug.  Isak’s arms come around Even’s back, both of them ignoring the sticky remains of their efforts.  Even is overwhelmed; he’s never felt like this before, never felt like he can do this so freely.  Sonja has never been really excited by the soft, caring part of the aftermath, but Isak is right here in this moment with Even.  

They sink back down onto the bed, kicking their extra clothing off, wiping their hands with a discarded t-shiry, then pushing the clothes off the bed before drawing the covers up and over both of them.  Isak tucks himself in against Even as if he belongs there and Even wraps one arm around him, enjoying the feeling of someone who wants to be here like this.  It’s unkind, and he knows it, to keep comparing Sonja like this but this is what he’s always wanted. It felt so much better to be allowed to look into Isak’s eyes while it happened, to be allowed to kiss whenever he wanted, to not have to be dominant but to share the experience as equal partners.  

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” Isak says, his voice a soft sigh against Even’s chest.

“Me either,” Even says, truthfully.

“You mean you didn’t …?”  Isak trails off but his meaning is clear.

“It wasn’t the same,” Even says, kissing Isak’s forehead as he snuggles in closer.  “It’s ... there are expectations as a Beast, but I didn’t know better.”  He kisses Isak again.  “I do now.”

He feels more than sees the smile that creates on Isak’s face which is still pressed against Even’s chest as his fingers lazily wander up and down Even’s torso.

“I’m glad,” Isak murmurs.  “I like learning with you.”

Even laughs, softly.  “I like learning with you too.”

It’s the truth, Even realizes.  He turns a little so he can wrap his other arm around Isak as well while they talk softly.  He’s not new to sex by any stretch of the imagination, but this all _feels_ fresh and new.  It’s not just the new person, it’s also not being within type, where there are no expectations and he’s free to discover things for himself.  It’s the fact that Isak is a boy too, and all the new things that come along with that.  He’s excited, Even realizes, and he doesn’t feel like he needs to cut himself off from everyone else anymore.  He’s still scared, of course; it’s daunting to do something like this which makes him vulnerable.  It’s daunting to step outside of the accepted norm, to ignore the pull to find a Beauty.  But Isak is here too and Even feels like maybe if they’re in it together then they can get through it together.  It’s a thought that comforts him as they eventually stop talking and drift into a restful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lovely Norwegian person gave me a lot of help when I was trying to find someone for Even's dad to use as an example, and from that I discovered the fascinating Amalie Skram. She seems like she was a really interesting person with a forward-looking attitude for the time, and I'm intrigued enough to go on a hunt for her works. When I find and read them I'll be back with an update.


	4. Chapter 4

The sheets are wrong.  It’s Even’s first thought as he wakes up, his eyes glued shut with sleep, and his dick uncomfortably reminding him that he needs to pee.  But.  The sheets are wrong.  He’s lying on his back and the sun is slanting into the room from the wrong direction; he can tell even though his eyes are still firmly shut.  The warmth and slight glow through his lids are both from the wrong angle.  Those wrong sheets are scratchy at his back, but they smell nice.  Like shampoo and musk.  Isak’s musk.  Even’s eyes fly open as he remembers.  It’s Isak’s home.  His bed.  Even’s naked, the covers tangled around his legs and his torso exposed to the air.  It’s not cold though, and as he stirs an arm clutches tightly at him and a leg tries to wrap itself around his.  Unfortunately, it can’t because of the tangled covers and Isak’s suddenly grumbling, his soft whines barely whispers as he snuffles his nose against Even’s chest.

It’s almost painful, the happiness that wells up in Even as he looks at this boy pressed so trustingly against him.  He rearranges the covers so that they’re over both of them again, and feels Isak’s smile as he wakes.

“Morning,” Isak says as he shifts his head enough so he can look at Even.  This time his leg does manage to hook over Even’s, whose heart stutters at the action.  The electricity between them hasn’t faded with the events of last night.  If anything, it’s pulsing harder than ever, and every brush of Isak’s body against Even’s is making his head swim and his skin light on fire.

“Morning yourself,” Even says, too blissful to even think of making a joke; maybe about morning wood or something else related to dicks.  His normal reaction to feeling discomfort is to laugh it away, but today he doesn’t feel the need despite the novelty of the situation and the fear he has that he’s feeling too much too soon.  Instead, he tilts down so he can kiss Isak, a lazy hello that nevertheless reminds his dick that he needs to attend to urgent matters.  He ignores it, unwilling to move from the comforting circle of Isak’s arms.

“Gross, morning breath,” Isak complains, but there’s a smile in his voice and he doesn’t move away.

“You’re not much better,” Even says with a laugh.  “That just about knocked me out.”

Isak rolls his eyes.  “Why are you like this?”

Even laughs, but the words send a shaft of fear into his heart.  He knows it’s meant in jest, but when the answer to that question is always possibly ‘because I’m a Beast’ or ‘because I’m bipolar’ it’s hard for Even to return the jibe in the manner in which it’s intended.  He’s trying to formulate an appropriately snarky response to cover his fear, when his dick reminds him yet again that he should go to the bathroom and he groans.  At Isak’s inquiring glance, he shrugs.

“Where’s the bathroom, again?”

“You forgot already?”

“I was distracted!”

Isak laughs fondly.  “Down the hall, first door on the right.  My toothbrush is the green one; maybe use it.”

“Fuck you.  My breath is like the gods’ and you’re lucky to have it.”

Reluctantly, Even pushes a laughing Isak off him so he can slide his feet out of bed and onto the floor.  Even pulls on his discarded sweats and makes his way to the bathroom sluggishly, still half asleep and drunk on the way Isak makes him feel.   Once he’s taken care of more pressing needs he runs water into the sink and splashes his face.  Looking into the mirror he takes stock of himself.  His hair is drooping, so he runs a handful of water through it to try to tame it into something resembling a hairstyle.  It’s important that he looks good today, this first day he gets to wake up with an Isak who knows all the important stuff and isn’t running away.   _ Most of the important stuff,  _ his inner voice mocks.   _ Maybe the rest will send him packing _ .  Scowling at his own mind, Even looks more critically at himself and smiles at what he sees. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes bright, his body looking relaxed and carefree for the first time in a long while.  It’s the effect of Isak.  He’ll take it.  Despite his earlier protestations, Even also brushes his teeth thoroughly.  Twice. 

Stumbling out of the bathroom with the intention of returning to Isak for some more snuggles and possibly some sort of repeat of last night, Even runs up against something solid.  The something lets out an, “oof” and backs off a bit.  Startled, Even looks up and finds himself looking at Eskild, who’s staring at his chest appreciatively in return.

“Oh.  Uh … sorry,” Even says.  “I didn’t see you.”

“Too busy thinking of my baby gay?”  Eskild winks.

Even grimaces internally, because yeah that is kind of what he was doing, but he just smiles at Eskild and asks, “ _ your _ baby gay?”

“Yes, mine.  I found him first, so I call dibs.”

“You can’t … you don’t call dibs on a person?” Even says, confused.  “That’s not even …”

He trails off in the face of Eskild’s amusement and the bright gleam in his eye.

“Come with me, you fine specimen of a man,” Eskild says, taking Even’s arm and dragging him in the direction of the kitchen.  “I’ll make some breakfast and we can do some talking.”

Even tries to protest, but Eskild shushes him with a finger on his lips.  By the time they get to the kitchen and Even is pushed into a chair, he’s resigned to his fate.  

“I thought we talked last night,” Even says, as Eskild hands him a coffee which steams invitingly even if it doesn’t have his usual caramel shot in it.  He grimaces as he thinks of Sonja and the way she always accommodated that particular quirk.  He wishes she’d stop intruding into his life now that he’s cut her off, but she’s still there whispering in every corner.

Eskild quirks his eyebrow and shrugs.  “We did.  But there’s stuff you should know about Isak, more than … you know, what we said then.”

Even frowns.  “Don’t you think Isak should be the one telling me stuff?”

“Oh?  Do you think so?”

Eskild is busy making toast in the background, and his back is towards Even making it impossible to see his expression, but his voice is genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t understand.  

“I should be the one telling what stuff?”

Even can feel the grin spreading on his face as he turns in his seat to see Isak entering the room.

“Halla, Baby Gay!  Sit.  Sit.”  Eskild waves his hand in the direction of the small table under which Even’s now trying to squish his legs.  There are more people using it and he can’t justify taking up all the sides, but the space is far too small for him to be comfortable.  In the end, he compromises, by allowing them to press against Isak’s once he’s sitting.  It’s not a bad compromise, all things considered.  “I was just going to tell Even some stuff he should know about you.”

Isak scowls as he takes his own cup of coffee.  “What stuff?  There’s no stuff, Eskild.”

Even can hear the squeaky fear in his voice, and his own heart starts beating faster in sympathetic anxiety.  “It’s okay,” he says quietly enough that only Isak will hear, and reaching over to squeeze his hand.  “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

Eskild huffs as he brings a small stand of toast to the table and places it in the centre with a flourish.  “Boys.  You shouldn’t keep secrets, you know.  Look what already happened when Even here didn’t mention he was a Beast, Isak.  You were heartbroken.”

“Eskild.  Seriously, it’s not your concern.  We’ll say what we want to say.  To each other.  When we’re ready.”

“Isak …”

“Eskild.  Stop.  You may be a Fairy Godmother, and you may have looked after me--” he breaks off, coughing to cover up whatever he was going to say, and darting a worried look at Even who just smiles benignly despite his head swimming with this new information.  Isak flits another glance at Even before turning back to Eskild.  “But you’re not in charge of me.  Okay?  I can look after myself; you said so yourself, just last night.”

Eskild’s shoulders slump and his face crumples in a way that would be comic if it wasn’t so sincere.  Even wants to make him feel better, but he senses there are currents ebbing here that he knows nothing about, a history that they are communicating to each other through their expressions and the intense gaze they’re giving each other.  Isak holds his own, staring Eskild down until he sighs and sits back in his own chair.

He reaches for a piece of toast before making one final comment.  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Baby Gay.  This pairing is a big thing.”  He waves his hand between the two of them.

“We know,” Even says, reaching for Isak’s hand.

Isak smiles at him and adds, “we’ll figure it out.  Together.  And I promise, if we need help you’ll be our first port of call, Eskild.”

Apparently satisfied, Eskild smiles at them again.  The rest of breakfast passes in a flurry of good natured ribbing between the other two while Even mostly looks on in amusement.  They’ve clearly been doing this for a long time, and Even wonders again how Isak ended up here rather than in his family home.

Eventually, Isak rolls his eyes one final time at one of Eskild’s barbs, jumps out of his seat and drags Even behind him and into his room.

“Fucking babysitter,” he mutters as they collapse together onto his bed.  “He’s so damn nosy all the time, interfering …”

Even has one arm tucked under Isak’s neck and shoulders and the other behind his own head.  Isak, in his turn, has curled into Even’s body and tucked his leg over Even’s.  His hand is tangled in Even’s hair and the slight brush of his arm over Even’s bare chest as he plays with that hair is making Even’s breath come in short pants and is lighting fire over every inch of skin that he’s touching.

“You said he’s a Fairy Godmother?” Even asks, and Isak laughs softly.

“Yeah.  He gets so pissed when people try to say ‘Godfather’ too; like he’s a weird traditionalist in some ways.”

“I’ve never met one before.  They seem intense.”

Isak laughs, the movement brushing his chest more firmly against Even’s causing him to gasp softly as his skin reacts, pebbling in the wake of Isak’s touch.  It might have been more prudent to put on a shirt, he thinks now.

“I think that’s just Eskild,” Isak says.  “No matter what the type, he’d be intense.”

“It’s interesting though, isn’t it?  Types and what they’re like.”

“Mmmm,” Isak agrees.  “You’re nothing like my mother.”

Even’s heart freezes for a moment before he lets his breath out slowly.  It’s here, then.  The conversation they both know they need to have.  Isak stirs restlessly, too, as if he’s also afraid of this.  The thought gives Even courage.  If they’re both feeling like this, then they both have something to lose; it seems he’s not the only one with everything on the line.  It calms him, enough so he can join in with a steady voice.

“I’m nothing like mine, either.  She’s a Beast, too,” he clarifies when Isak squints up at him, his eyes filled with confusion.  “She thinks I should be, though.  Keeps trying to make me act more like her.”

“That must suck.”  Isak’s voice is soft and the hand that’s been playing with Even’s hair gives his cheek a gentle pat.  Even closes his eyes in delighted wonder at how peaceful and easy this whole thing seems.  How natural it all feels when he’s with Isak; there’s none of the strain and the tension he felt as he ran up against Sonja’s notions of how they should be.  Even’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong because they’re not  _ supposed _ to be right. But it all just keeps getting better.

“I thought you were a Beauty,” Even confesses.  “You seemed like one for so long.  Even when I knew, I found it hard not to see it.”

Isak smiles.  “I had to learn to be like one.  It was just me and Mamma for so long, and when she got … you know … I had to do what I could to help.”

Isak trails off as his voice breaks a little.  Even winces even while he nods.  He knows what Isak means.  That she got into beastly rages sometimes, that she got aggressive and unpredictable, or that she became childish and overly playful.  Both states require intervention, preferably from a Beauty, and Even can see it all play out in his mind.  He can see the young Isak trying hard to calm her down, or to keep up with her games.  He can see the young boy trying desperately to keep his family functioning in whatever way he could.  He can see the way it overwhelmed Isak at times, hearing it in the broken voice and seeing it in the sad eyes.  He remembers what Isak had said when they first discussed Beasts.

Even feels the rage welling up in his own body at the thought of what Isak has been through, and a growl tries to escape his throat.  Terrified, he tenses and tries to pull his body back from the brink.  The fire is starting to rage within him, but he can’t let it take over.  He can’t fail.  Not this early.  Even will scare Isak off if he behaves exactly like his mother, but he’s losing the battle for control.  The anger is pulsing now, fire flooding Even’s body with waves of aggression which he’s trying, and failing, to push away.  Even moans, his fingers dig into the back of his head as he tries to use the pain to keep himself grounded.  He turns away from Isak, trying to prevent him from seeing as he loses control.  Isak sits up, looking at him in concern.

“Even?”

Even shakes his head frantically, still looking away.  His heart is thudding and he refuses to let Isak see him like this.

“Even, it’s okay.  You’re okay.”

The voice is so calm, weirdly calm considering the circumstances, and it reassures Even a little.  He turns wild, panicked eyes towards Isak who nods in understanding as he meets his gaze.  He carefully moves to straddle Even’s hips and places his hands on his chest.  The touch is soothing, settling Even a little even as he feels the aggression flooding him.  The weight on his legs is grounding him, pulling him back into the moment.  Isak rubs his hands in slow circles on his chest and Even can feel his heart rate starting to slow and the tension slowly ease from his body.

Once he’s back under control, shame fills him as he looks at Isak’s concerned face and speculative eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.  “I’m just … I should go.”

He moves to roll over and slip out of the bed, but Isak isn’t moving.  His legs still pin Even’s to the bed and his hands are still firm on his chest.

“No.”  Isak’s voice is strong, commanding, and Even freezes.  “I want you to stay.  We still need to talk, and this doesn’t change that.”

“But I can’t control it,” Even says, feeling his defeat seeping into his voice.  “You don’t want that or need it.”

“You’re wrong,” Isak says, a small hint of a smile dancing across his beautiful lips.  “You controlled it.”  He’s looking at Even in wonder and awe.  “I’ve never seen anyone so close to the edge before and still manage to not give in.  Mamma, she always … well,” he says, clearly shying away from whatever thought that just conjured up.  He looks down at Even, pride gleaming in his eyes, along with something that looks like awe.  “You’re amazing.”

Even shakes his head, confused.  “You did that.  You controlled me, and you really shouldn’t have to--”

“No, I didn’t,” Isak says cutting him off.  “I really didn’t.  I was just here; you did it all.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

Isak’s smile is beaming now, making him glow.  Even can feel a small smile growing on his own face as he thinks about it.

“I did it?” Even asks again, allowing the wonder he feels to bleed into his voice.  

He’s struggled for so long with the thought that he can’t control himself, that he needs someone else to do it for him, that the idea that he might be able to help himself, at least a little, seems like a miracle. He’s not so naive as to think that if Isak hadn’t been here he would still have been able to pull himself back, because it was the steadying presence that gave Even something else to focus on.  But the idea that it’s something within himself that can stop him, and not whatever is happening around him … well, that feels freeing.  Even can’t quite bring himself to believe it, but even the suggestion makes him happy

His eyes wet with unshed tears, Even pulls Isak down to him and wraps his arms around his back.  Isak buries his nose in Even’s neck and laughs as he nods.

“You did it.”

Isak lifts his head a little and smiles down at Even.  He shifts so he’s in a position to lean down and kiss him, and Even sighs willingly into the embrace.  It’s a kiss of compassion, of joy, of pride and of shared accomplishment.  Soon it becomes heated, Isak’s hands coming up to bury themselves in Even’s hair again as he groans against his lips.  Even can feel his dick stirring in response, and he arches his back a little as Isak presses down against him.  There’s Isak’s flimsy pair of boxers and Even’s sweatpants between them, but it soon feels like far too much as the friction rouses him until he’s hard and aching, fire tingling through his entire body; different fire, fire that’s welcome this time.

“Isak,” he groans as he pulls back a little, reluctantly disengaging from Isak’s lips and the heady sensations his kisses are causing.

“Hmmm?”  Isak’s eyes are lidded and he looks as drunk on this as Even feels.

“Clothes … um …”

Isak blushes, staining his cheeks a deep crimson but he nods.  He sits up enough that Even can wriggle his pants down over his hips and then helps him pull them off and throws them in the direction of the door.  Then he’s kicking off his own boxers and sending them flying in the wake of Even’s pants.

He looks uncertain now, so Even reaches out and flips him over so Isak is lying staring up at him with glazed eyes and bitten-red lips.  Even’s dick jerks at the sight.  He shimmies a little, pressing his legs between Isak’s, who takes the hint and lets his fall open enough for Even to slip between them and align their cocks.

“Is this okay?’ Even asks, his voice husky as he rocks his hips gently.  Isak’s eyes flutter closed at the pressure and he nods.

“Yeah,” he says as he opens them again to look at Even.

They stay like that, rocking together, sliding so the friction gets more intense and the fire threatens to consume him.  Even can feel the sweat gathering in the small of his back as he revels in this feeling.  It’s so different and new, the feeling of Isak’s cock rubbing against his own, his gasps as he follows Even’s movements and the way his hands clutch at Even’s back as if he’s Isak’s only lifeline.  Even gets that.  He feels the same as he cradles Isak’s face in his hands and presses desperate kisses to his lips as they continue to move together.

Soon, however, Isak is groaning his frustration at the pace they’ve set and he hooks his leg over Even’s hip, trying to pull him closer as he does so.  Even pulls back a little to look down at him.  He looks wrecked, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open.  The sight sends a flash of desire straight to Even’s dick, and he can feel the telltale build up as he nears his orgasm.   He speeds his pace, making Isak grunt a little as he adjusts and keeps up, his hands almost bruising in the strength of the grip they have on Even’s arms.  Even’s so close that it only takes a few more thrusts of his hips before he’s shooting all over Isak, who looks startled by the sudden warmth before he too tenses and his come is mixing with Even’s.

After, Even drops his head onto Isak’s shoulder and laughs breathlessly.  

“You’re going to kill me,” he says.  He can feel Isak’s chest heaving under his own as he laughs too.

“Not my fault!  You started it!”

Even’s too happy in this moment to bother pointing out that Isak was the one who kissed him first this morning, so he just rolls to the side and flops down so his head is tucked into Isak’s shoulder.  Isak gathers him in, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his hair.  It feels nice, like Even’s allowed to be looked after for once.  He sighs his contentment as he snuggles more.

“I think we need to wear clothes if we’re going to try having serious conversations,” Even says eventually, injecting a fake serious tone into his voice.  “You’re too distracting otherwise.”

Isak laughs, and repeats, “not my fault.  You’re so hot, I can’t help it.”

Warmth fills Even at Isak’s words.  It’s been so long since anyone said something like that to him.  He hums as a response and idly traces his fingers over Isak’s abs, which are well defined and gleaming from the sweat of his exertions.  Even can feel the stirrings of interest in his dick again and Isak sniggers as he glances down to see what’s affecting Even and notices the way he’s admiring his body.  Even shakes himself out of the contemplation of Isak’s perfections.

“So we agree … clothes on, then?” he says.

“Mmmmhmmm.”

Even feels Isak’s nod against his hair.

“But maybe not right now,” Even adds.  “This is too nice.”

Laughing, Isak agrees and they snuggle closer.  There’s come still drying on both of them, but neither is in a hurry to move and take care of it.  This bubble of theirs is too precious to allow it to be shattered by mundane things like washing.

They spend the rest of the day the same way, talking and cuddling.  They manage to drum up enough energy to clean themselves eventually, then dress again before they slide back into a remade bed.  There’s more kissing, which makes Even feel so cherished.  It’s a new feeling to be cared for in this specific way and it’s so intoxicating he doesn’t know what to do with it.  He just pulls Isak tighter as if he can soak the feeling right out of his skin and embed it in his own bones so he can keep it forever. 

Eskild eventually knocks on the door and yells at them to come out so he knows they’re not dead, and Isak huffs reluctantly before he sits up and looks down at Even.

“I guess I should humor the guru,” he says.

“Yeah,” Even says, sighing as he lets his feet swing over the side of the bed and thump onto the floor.  “I should go home.  My parents will be wondering where I am.”

Isak pouts, and the sight makes Even’s heart clench even though he knows it’s in jest.  “Do you have to go?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning over to kiss Isak one last time before they leave their sanctuary.  “I think I have another serious talk coming.” 

He grins at Isak, trying to pretend that the idea doesn’t bother him, trying to pretend that he doesn’t wish people would chill the fuck out and leave him alone to get on with his life.  Isak doesn’t appear to notice Even’s irritation, or if he does he’s kind enough to ignore it.  Instead, he takes Even’s hand and they head to the door of the apartment together.

It’s more of a wrench than Even had expected, having to leave.  Isak is so soft and warm, and his hand feels so comfortable that Even feels it almost as a physical loss when he drops it to open the door.  He steps out, turning to look back at Isak.  His eyes are wide and sad as he leans back against the doorframe with his hands behind his back and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.  It hits Even again just how beautiful Isak is, and he groans, his gut twisting uncomfortably at the mere idea of leaving him behind..

“I want to stay,” he mumbles as he surges back to press a kiss to Isak’s lips, then his cheek, forehead, nose, the other cheek and lips again.  And again and again, peppering kisses over as much surface area as he can.

“I want you to stay,” Isak says and he’s laughing at Even’s antics.  

Even’s heart soars.  Sonja always frowned if he got like this, thinking it was the Beast taking him over, making him act childish in a way she disapproved of.  Even never got to be playful, never got to explore that side of himself.  Even knows this is deeply uncharitable of him, knows he shouldn’t be comparing the end of a long and complicated relationship to the bliss and joy of a new one.  But he can’t help it.  The differences between his two experiences are already stark, and the lightness he feels is so new and yet so fragile he thinks it could blow away like gossamer if he handles it wrong.

“I’ve never felt anything like this before,” he breathes into Isak’s lips on a final heady kiss, then he finally forces himself to take another step back.

“Neither have I,” Isak says, and it feels like a promise, like he’s offering his whole self to Even with those words.  Even more than when Eskild threatened his balls, Even thinks they have solidified something in this moment.  

“I have to go.”  

The words are dragged out of Even reluctantly and Isak nods, a sad pout back on those lips of his.

“I know.  You’ll text?”

He sounds unsure, as if he doesn’t know whether Even will want to.  Even laughs at the absurdity of that notion.

“Of course.”  Rock solid assurance in his voice.  There was never any doubt.  Isak grins, relief blooming on his face.

One more quick kiss then Eskild’s voice is suddenly loud behind Isak, and Even is forced to step away and let Isak go back inside.  It’s painful to walk away then, to head to the tram and make his way home.  It’s even more painful when he gets there.

Even pushes the door open as silently as he can, trying to put off the inevitable, but in an eerie recreation of their previous conversation his mother clicks out to see him and demands he follow her back into the lounge.  Her tone brooks no argument and Even slumps in defeat.  He’d rather not have to do this right now, not after the high of being with Isak.  

Walking into the lounge is a shock of ice cold water over his body.  His parents are sitting in the same seats as last time, but the expressions on their faces are hard.  There’s none of the cheerful, compassionate love Even had sensed beneath their demeanors during that previous discussion.  He walks as quietly as he can to the chair they’ve set out for him.  The interrogation chair, as he’s starting to think of it.  Their eyes follow him silently across the room, and the lack of sound is terrifying.  Even can feel the anxiety boiling up in him, and he has to take a deep, steadying breath before he turns to face them and sits down.  It’s even more imperative in this moment to stem any rages before they happen than it was with Isak.  His freedom to pursue his own happiness is on the line here and fucking it up means losing all the progress he’s made.  Worse, it means they’ll never trust him without a Beauty again.  

“Where’ve you been?” his mother asks, her voice clipped.

“At … uh.”  Even clears his throat and tries again as the words clog his throat on their way out, the terror he’s feeling making it impossible to control his own voice.  “At Isak’s.  I told you that.”  He’s shaking, and it infuriates him.  He’s got nothing to be ashamed of, so why is he feeling like the one in the wrong here?

“Mmmmm,” his father says.  It’s a judgement with no soft edges, no hint that he understands.  “You broke up with Sonja.”

Even swallows, and looks down.  He has to force his hands still in his lap as they try to twist and shake.

“Yes I did.”

He tries to sound confident, like he’s in control, but he knows it’s coming out wobbly and insecure.

“After I asked you not to?”

“Uh.  Yeah.  I did.  I couldn’t --”

He’s cut off by his mother’s angry voice.  “And you’re leading that poor boy on.  You know this can’t work.”

“I don’t.”  Even’s defiant now, his hands shaking for another reason as he tries to keep his iron grip on the anger he can feel trying to build in him.  “I  _ don’t _ know that.  It’s working fine, much better than it ever was with Sonja.”

His mother laughs, the sound bitter in the still room.  “You’re a Beast, Even.  It’s in your nature.  You’ll never …” she trails off as he scoffs.  “You know what?  There’s no use in this.  You’re too stubborn.  But mark my words; this is not going to end well and it’ll be your fault when that boy has his heart broken because you can’t control yourself.”

The anger in her voice is strong and Even shudders.  He knows she wouldn’t usually say stuff like this to him, knows she would temper it, make it more palatable if she wasn’t so wound up.  But it doesn’t matter.  The words hit home, striking fear into Even’s heart alongside the deep hurt that this is what his mother thinks of him.  It’s enough to make him short with her when he replies, even though he knows this isn’t going to help matters.

“Stop!” Even shouts.  “Stop it.  Why can’t you let me have this?  Why can’t something be nice in my life for once?”

She scoffs at him, her eyes reflecting her disdain for that idea.

“You have a  _ very _ nice life, Even.  Until you broke up with Sonja, it had everything you’ll ever need.  And you’re just going to let this boy--”

“It didn’t,” Even says, calm now as he quietly cuts her off.  “It didn’t have happiness.  And stop calling him ‘boy’ -- I keep telling you, his name is Isak.”

His mother sighs, one hand on her forehead and the other clutching the necklace she wears every day.  Even recognizes the signs; she’s starting to boil, the rage is taking over.  He shivers.  He’s seen her when she gives in, seen the way she transforms.  It’s not pleasant.  He casts one pleading look at his father who shrugs.  He moves to sit next to her, and his hand on her leg steadies her.  They whisper together for a few minutes before her shoulders relax and her hand releases its death grip on the necklace.

Her eyes snap open and she fixes Even with a glare, even though she’s much calmer.

“Why?” she asks, and there’s genuine confusion there behind the aggressive anger that’s still simmering in her eyes and in her voice.  “Why would you risk this, Even?”

Even shrugs, though he knows the answer.   _ Because he makes me happy.  _  He doesn’t say it aloud.

His father reaches over to him finally and squeezes his hand.

“We just want to help.  We want the best for you, you know that.”

Even nods.  He does know that, but he’s still sickened by their reactions.  He knew they wouldn’t be happy; they love Sonja after all.  But he didn’t expect this level of animosity.  

“I just want to be me.  I want to figure out who I am.”

“You don’t need this boy … sorry, Isak … to do that.  Why can’t you do that with Sonja?”

Even wants to growl his frustration again.  They really don’t get it.  “Because there’s so much of me that she tried to keep controlled.”

“For good reason.  Even, your nature … it  _ needs _ to be controlled.”  His mother again, with her obsession with his nature.  She never considers any other options and it pains him; is she too caught up in how  _ she _ feels or does she truly think Even has no chance?  He tests her.

“Maybe it does.  But maybe  _ I _ can do that.  Maybe I don’t need someone else.”

His mother throws her hands up in defeat.  “I can see we’re not going to get anywhere.  Even, we can’t forbid you to do this; you’re too old for that.  But you damn sure aren’t bringing it under our roof.  I’m not having this thing explode where I might be held responsible.”

She stands, gives him one last irritated look then indicates with her head that her husband should follow her.  He does, after one last squeeze of Even’s shoulder.

“Be careful, Even,” he says.  “You’re playing a dangerous game here.”

They’re so sure, so adamant that it will definitely end badly.  Eskild also thinks it will go wrong, though he phrased it more nicely.  What if all these people are right?  What if Even is risking Isak and his happiness by being so selfish?  No, he shakes his head.  What they have, the way they are feeling, that isn’t wrong.  They’re just going to have to show the fucking world.  Maybe other out-of-archetype pairings haven’t worked, but that doesn’t have to mean theirs won’t.  Even refuses to give up before they’ve even really begun.

Sighing, he texts Isak as he walks through to his room and sits on the edge of the bed.

_ Hey, baby _

He waits, tense, for the phone to light up with a response.  It doesn’t take long.

_ Hey <3  How were your parents? _

_ Awful.  They think I’m going to ruin your life. _

_ We’ll just have to show them different, then. _

Even laughs, relieved.  Thank goodness Isak gets it.  It calms him a little, knowing they think the same way about this.  Fuck society and fuck Even’s parents.  They can do this.  Together.  He sends another quick text back, this time a stupid meme which elicits an eyeroll emoji from Isak.  He grins, falling back onto his bed so he can chat with Isak more comfortably.

The next few days at home are stilted and uncomfortable.  Even’s parents are painfully polite to him, but they flinch every time he gets a message on his phone, and he can see the way their faces tighten whenever he mentions Isak’s name.  It becomes a game: how many times can he drop it into a sentence before they get angry and stalk away?  The answer is only a couple.  Every time they do stalk away, something sits uncomfortably in Even’s chest as he thinks about the future and how hard it’s going to be if his parents never accept this.

It’s a relief to get back to school on Monday morning.  Even’s done trying to be cool; he isn’t interested in impressing the nameless, faceless crowds anymore.  It’s all about Isak.  Even so, he can feel the eyes of the school on him as he arrives.  Its collective gaze is more speculative than it has been, takes in the change in clothes from the coolest he owns to those he more typically wears at home, the loss of the sunglasses, the less perfect quiff.  That collective gaze is clearly wondering what happened and if it can make a big deal out of it.

Despite being settled and happier now, despite knowing that he isn’t going to lose control if some asshole looks at him the wrong way, Even still flinches.  He’s still conditioned, primed to worry that he’ll be found out.  Isak knows, and so does Sana, but no-one else is aware of his type.  He stifles the fear, knowing that letting it out will just hasten the moment when he risks letting the school see the Beast.  And even though he doesn’t give a damn what they think, Even’s still desperate to keep that knowledge from being made public.  He’s not even sure why, except that it feels too vulnerable for right now.

Thankfully, there’s Isak.  He’s waiting by Even’s locker with a wide smile and a cocky grin.

“You know my locker, huh?  Stalker.”

Isak rolls his eyes.  “It’s not hard to know, Even.   _ Everyone _ knows where the hot, suave new guy keeps his stuff.”

A flash of anxiety rolls through Even again, burning him with the thought that the whole school is that invested in him that this is all just taken as common knowledge, but he pushes it away.

“Hot, suave new guy, huh?” he says, his voice teasing.

“Don’t get a big head, asshole.  You went out of your way to get people to see you like that.”

Even blushes, the heat rising in his cheeks as Isak chuckles at his expression.  It’s kind of amazing actually that Isak knows him well enough already to have figured that out.  He’d love to pull Isak into a kiss right now, but Even knows neither of them is ready for that.  Not in public.  Instead, he winks and lets his fingers trail along Isak’s arm as if casually before he punches in his numbers and grins to himself as he opens the locker door.

He revels in the way Isak sucks in his breath and turns wide, helpless eyes to his own.  Even’s grin widens and he winks at Isak, who rolls his eyes.

“I’ll leave you and your locker alone to admire each other now, shall I?” he says, his voice slightly higher pitched than usual but otherwise showing no signs he’s been affected by the touch.  Even smirks.

“Well, we do have a deep and abiding relationship, Isak.  You need to understand the connection we have.  It responds so beautifully to my touch …”

Isak’s breath hitches at the innuendo as Even turns his eyes to Isak’s as he says the last words.  Isak smiles, this time softly, then turns to leave.

“Hey,” Even calls after him and he looks back with his brow quirked.

“You want to hang out later?”  He means  _ you want to make out until we’re breathless and maybe get each other off again? _ but they’re in public so he has to keep it chill.

“Sure,” Isak says, his lips tilting up in a smile that says he knows exactly what Even means.  “I’ll text you.”

Just like that, Even’s day is better.  He gets through the rest of it with a sense of peace.  It feels like an accomplishment that there are no incidents that make him need to calm himself down.  Things that have set him off in the past (kids bumping into him without apologizing, the cafeteria not having what he wants to eat, lessons being fucking boring), now cause a mere ripple of discontent.  His hands clench beside him once or twice as he overhears some comments about him ( _ what’s his deal? He seems so odd, probably some weirdo type _ ), and his heart beats faster, but there’s no event that pushes him close to losing control and Even feels good.

He’s happy, Even realizes, and that’s such a weird feeling that he’s not sure what to do with it.  It’s Isak, of course.  Even when he’s not there, the thought of him -- and the stupid memes he’s taken to sending Even whenever he has a down moment -- keeps Even’s head in the dizzying state of euphoria he’s been living in for the last few days.

His phone pings, startling him as he’s leaving his final class of the day.  His head is filled with Isak and the ‘hangout’ they’re going to have later, so he doesn’t register who this latest text is from for a moment.  When he does, all the joy drains out of him.

_ Hey babe.  We should meet up and talk. _

Sonja.  Fuck.  Why is she doing this?  Hasn’t she accepted he means it?  He ignores the message, hoping she’ll lay off, but it’s less than a minute later when the next one pops up.

_ Even?  Did you get over this foolishness yet?  We need to sort this out _

_ There’s nothing to sort out Sonja.  We’re done. _

Even watches as the bubbles on the phone come and go.  She’s obviously trying to find something to say to that.  He huffs in irritation.  Eventually a new message appears.

_ You don’t get to decide that without me.  A break is a break not a breakup. _

Even wants to retort that, actually, he does get to end it, and that she can’t keep him in a relationship he no longer wants.  But he’s trying to keep himself calm and he knows that’ll just turn this whole business into a fight, a fight he doesn’t want at all and definitely not over text.  So, Even keeps it as straightforward as he can while still making his point.  He hopes she takes the hint this time.

_ I want it to be a breakup.  I’m sorry. _

_ Can’t we at least talk?  The boys want to talk too.  They miss you. _

She says it like it's an incentive, but fuck.  Even's not ready for that, not with Sonja too.  

_ I can’t. _

_ You can’t keep running away when things get shit Even.  Grow up and face things like a fucking man. _

That stings, for sure.  But it’s not like this is anything new.  She’s always labeled anything he does that she doesn’t like as immature or childish, and he knows the harsh tone is just her hurt that he’s really trying to break away from her.  It still stings.  Part of him always wonders if she’s right; she’s always known him so well and she’s always helped him with his moods and his issues.  But if he’s not ready to talk to his old friends, wouldn’t seeing them just make it worse?  Or is that just an excuse to try to get away from facing things that make him uncomfortable?

It’s childish, Even knows, but he leaves it there.  Doesn’t answer her.  He knows that wherever she is she’ll be cursing under her breath, but he doesn’t care.  He takes a savage pleasure in the idea, actually.  He doesn’t want to give in, to let her control him, and so he has to keep his distance.  But he thinks he does need to start thinking about how to deal with the past since it keeps trying to force its way into his present.

He whines a little to himself.  If only he could figure out who to speak to about this.  Isak is out; Even doesn’t want to upset him.   _ You don’t want to tell him about Bakka yet, you mean, _ his inner voice sneers at him, and he shushes it forcefully.  His parents are clearly not going to give him what he wants; they’re not unbiased here.  He sighs.  There’s only one person left and he’s not sure what she’ll make of it all.  But maybe that’s a good thing.  If he can’t predict what she’ll say, that makes her the closest he has to an unbiased shoulder to lean on.

Before he can think better of it, Even quickly pulls up her number.  

_ I want to talk to you. _

_ Wow rude Even _

Even flushes, realizing he  _ has _ just demanded something out of the blue.  She has every right to be pissed.  Why does he keep doing this?  It’s such a Beast thing -- demanding that things happen the way he wants, whenever and wherever.  He’s trying to avoid doing this, and here he is already fucking up.  He takes a breath and tries again.

_ I’m sorry.  I’m just a little anxious and you’re the only one who can help _

_ Flattery will get you everywhere.  Where are you? _

_ Still at school _

_ I’m out the front.  Come find me. _

Great.  Another test, but Even pushes off from the wall he’s been leaning on and makes his way through the school towards her.  His steps slow as he makes his way out the front door and spots her.  She’s with Jonas and the other guys from the cafeteria.  A couple of girls are hovering in the background like they’re waiting for her -- or maybe for the boys; it’s hard to tell given the way they’re staring at the group.

Sana glances up and smiles at Even, beckoning him over.  Her eyes are dark, ringed with makeup and her lips are a deep red.  She looks intimidating as hell and Even feels his heart flipping a little with anxiety as he approaches.  What if she doesn’t tell him what he wants to hear?

“Hey,” he says when he gets within speaking distance.  

“Hi,” they all chorus and he smiles a little.  

“Hey … uh, guys,” Even says, uncomfortably aware that although they’ve been in the same place before, he’s never actually met these guys.

Jonas takes the hint.  “Oh.  Even, this is Magnus,” he waves his hands at the excitable blond one with terrible taste in questions, “and that’s Mahdi.  Guys … this is Even.”

The way he says Even’s name, he knows he’s been the subject of conversation before and he cringes.  He can’t imagine what they must have thought of him after Isak discovered that he had a girlfriend, and he’s also worried that Jonas has at least a little suspicion of his type, if Isak hasn’t actually confirmed it.  He holds his hand out to each of the others in turn, and is a little startled when Magnus pulls him into a hug.  It’s unorthodox, but Even welcomes it.  It’s so seldom that he’s ever been hugged by anyone other than his parents that he revels in it now.  There’s also the relief that this guy doesn’t seem to want to reject him outright, and that idea is still novel enough that Even finds it overwhelming.

Sana seems to sense his hesitation, as she pushes the guys gently in the direction of the waiting girls.

“Go.  Go.  Vilde and Eva are waiting, and they look like they’re getting impatient.”

Sure enough, when Even glances in their direction he sees them bouncing on their heels looking irritated.  One, a blonde, is glancing pointedly at her watch and the other is whispering in her ear, her eyes on the boys and her expression dark.

“Oh.  Hmm, yeah.”  Jonas grins at Even once more before turning in their direction, the other two boys following in his wake.  Magnus looks eager as they approach the girls while Mahdi seems amused.

Even follows their progress with his eyes, laughing a little as Magnus clearly tries to impress the blonde and she looks at him with barely concealed confusion.

“You wanted to talk?’  Sana’s amused voice drifts to him and Even jumps, startled.

“I … I did, yeah.”  He looks down at her, suddenly unsure what he needs to say.  Her eyes take on a sympathetic expression and she smiles.

“It’s something Isak related, yeah?”

Even can feel his mouth twitch, a cross between a grimace and a smile.  “Kind of.”

“Kind of?”  Sana repeats.  “You need to be more specific, Even.  I can’t read minds and as nice as I am,” she pauses, letting her lips acknowledge the joke before continuing, “I don’t have all day.”

Relaxing as she speaks, Even smiles.  He likes blunt people.  There’s no ambiguity with them; they say what they mean and it’s refreshing.

“I have a problem.  You see, my parents.  They want me to be a proper Beast.  Or not even want.  They think I  _ am.  _  They think by breaking up with Sonja that I’m going to … I don’t know.  That I’m going to ruin everything.  They’re so mad.”

Sana looks sympathetic again.  “Even,” she says kindly.  “What do  _ you _ want?”

“I … uh.  I want to be with Isak.”

“And what do your parents think about that?”

Right to the heart of it, then.  Directness comes easily to her, so Even tries to reflect it back to her.  It doesn’t come so easily to him.  He shrugs uncomfortably.  “They really don’t like that.”

“Because he’s an Outcast?”

Even shakes his head emphatically.  The one thing he does know here is that his parents are absolutely sure  _ he _ is the problem.  That Isak is fine, but Even is going to fuck him up.  “Because I’m a Beast.  They think I’m going to get out of control and hurt him.”

“Do you think you’ll hurt him?”

Even feels misery churning up in his throat.  It’s hard to talk now because there’s the possibility that he will and he can’t bear the thought.  He shrugs again.  “I don’t want to, but what if they’re right?  What if this is all a really bad idea?”

Sana gives him a long, considering look.  It’s almost uncomfortable how long it lasts as she searches his face for something.  Whatever it is, he’s not sure she’s found it when she speaks next.

“The thing you’re missing here, Even, is staring you in the face.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.”  When he looks confused she groans, and hits him lightly on the arm.  “It’s Isak, dumbass.  What does  _ he _ think?”

“He seems to want to be with me.”

“Of course he does, and honestly Even, I think this is just something you’re going to have to work through.”

“What do you mean?”

“If it came down to it, if you had to choose …” she looks up at him, tilting her head to the side and giving him an encouraging smile.  It’s one he recognizes from his teachers and it makes his lips tug up slightly.  “You see where I’m going?” she adds.  “Not necessarily choosing between Isak and your family, but between having a Beauty and being your own person … what would you pick?”

Even nods.  She makes a lot of sense.  “I’d pick being myself.”

“Exactly.  And right now, that means you have Isak by your side.  So stop being a dick.  Stop overthinking, and just enjoy yourself.”

“Just enjoy myself,” Even repeats.  She says it like it’s that easy.  Like he can just choose not to worry so much about what might happen.

“Yeah.  Look, I know it sucks that your parents aren’t supporting this.  But you know they’ll come around.”

Even sighs.  He doesn’t actually know that.  The way things are going right now, he’s not sure his parents will ever accept his decision.  But Sana is right in some respects.  He’s feeling much less stressed now, and despite all the fears and the worries, she’s right that this is his decision and there’s nothing his parents or Sonja can do that can change that.  They can make it uncomfortable, sure, but they can’t change it.

“Do I … should I talk to Sonja again?  She wants me to.”

Sana shrugs.  “Do you have anything new to say to her?”

There’s the bluntness again, and he loves her for it.  She has a gift of seeing to the heart of a problem and just opening it to examination.  She’s right, again.  How much is Sana and how much is her type Even’s not sure.  But he’s grateful for her anyway.

“No.  Just that I’m sorry.”

“Then I don’t think you need to.”

“She says I’m running away from my problems.”

“Maybe so.  But that’s not up to her is it?”

“She thinks I should talk to Elias and the boys too.”

At that, Sana glances at him quickly.  “How do you feel about that?”

He can tell she’s actually invested now, her body language is a little too precise, a little too casual to be truly at ease, and it sends a jolt of anxiety through him again.  

“You think I should too.”  

It’s not a question, but Sana shakes her head anyway.

“Not if you don’t want to or you’re not ready.  But Elias, and the others, they do care about you.  They’ve been worried.”

“I can’t,” Even whispers.

She pats his arm reassuringly.  He can tell that she’s disappointed, but she’s hiding it well.  He’s grateful for that too.  “Then don’t do it yet.  There’s time.”

Even smiles at her, limp with the relief that flooded him at her words.  He’s being a fucking coward, he knows, but he can’t face them.  Not yet.  The memories are too painful.  She nods in the direction of the school, directing his attention to a newcomer arriving.

“Here’s your boy now.”  She grins at him, her dimples lighting up her face with mischief.  “Remember what I said -- enjoy yourself.  Enjoy this time; there’s no reason not to.”

Even shakes his head at her before pushing off from the wall he’s been leaning against and moving towards Isak.  The sight of him makes something settle inside Even and he knows Sana’s right.  He can’t control his parents and their reactions, he can’t control what people think of them, but he can control how he reacts to all that.  So right now, he’s going to enjoy time with his boyfriend.  If he can call him that.

“Hey, baby,” he says when he reaches Isak.

Isak flushes, and looks up at him, his eyes widening with interest as Even licks his lips.  From behind them, Even hears Sana’s sardonic, “see you, lovebirds.  Don’t mind me; I’ll just leave now,” but he pays her very little mind.  

Still hyper aware that they can’t show affection in public, Even falls into step next to Isak, close but not touching.  It’s some kind of torture not to be able to reach out and intertwine their hands, so he shoves his into his pockets to keep away from the temptation.  Isak looks at him out of the side of his eye and grins as if he knows why Even is doing that.

“Isak?” Even asks after a while.

“Yeah?”

“What are we?”

Isak’s face crinkles in confusion as he stops walking for a moment.  “Huh?”

“I mean … what do you want from this us thing?”

“This us thing?  You’re so eloquent today,” Isak teases, but he looks happy, like Even has handed him something precious.

“Yeah.  Us.  Are we … boyfriends?”

Even’s eyes are fixed on Isak, so he sees the smile which blooms swiftly and is then carefully turned down a notch.  He sees the tilt of the chin as Isak tries to keep himself calm.  He sees the flash of light in his eye.  He sees it all and his heart soars.  Because no matter how chill Isak is trying to be, Even sees how happy he is.

“We can be,” Isak says softly, finally looking at Even with glowing eyes and a happy smile hovering on his lips.  “If you want to be.”

“Oh, I really want to be,” Even says, and it’s near impossible to keep his hands off Isak now.  The urge to kiss and kiss and never let go is burning in his fingertips and over his lips.  So he adds, “your house?”

Isak nods, and then it’s a race to see how fast they can get there.  A race against their own bodies which keep threatening to give in and touch in a way that they want to avoid people seeing.

They burst through the door of the apartment, and Isak shuts it as quickly as he can before rushing Even through into his bedroom.  Thankfully, no-one else seems to be at home and they’re able to give in, finally, to the desire that’s raged all day.

Isak grabs Even’s head, pulling him into a searing kiss as Even’s hands slide behind Isak’s back and pull him more snugly into his own body.  They stand there for what feels like hours, just kissing.  The kisses are heated and frantic as they each make up for the lost moments on the street and at school.  Eventually, Isak pulls back and smiles up at Even.

He’s panting and his eyes look as glassy as Even’s feel, but his smile is bright and his body pressed tight to Even’s like he never wants to let go.  He nods behind Even.

“Bed?” he asks, his voice a little unsteady, but the meaning very clear in his eyes.

“Definitely bed,” Even breathes.

They stumble in that direction, Isak taking the opportunity to remove Even’s shirt as they do so.  It’s only fair then, Even thinks, that he return the favor.  Soon they’re bare chested on the bed, Isak lying back against his pillows and Even hovering over him.  His hands play with the clasp of Isak’s pants and he raises an eyebrow.  Isak nods, enthusiastically, and says, “yeah, please,” by way of extra encouragement.  Not that Even needs any more.  

He’s fascinated by the way Isak’s belly contracts when his fingers brush it as they work on popping open the jeans.  He mourns a little as he has to drag his eyes away to start shimmying the offending item down Isak’s legs and throws it on the floor.  There’s a slight hint of golden hair peeking above the boxers, and the sight makes Even’s head swim as he looks again.

Isak’s cock is straining against the thin material, and Even is impatient to get his hands on it again.  It’s still so captivating, the way this feels, the way it is with Isak.  Suddenly, Even wants to know the taste, not just of his kisses, but of all of him.   

He frees Isak from his boxers, allowing his cock to bounce up, and watching as Isak shifts restlessly on the bed, clearly wanting  _ something, _ even if he’s too far gone to articulate it.  He leans forward and gives an experimental lick, from the base all the way to the tip.  The sound Isak makes goes straight to Even’s own dick and he groans in response.

“Can I?” he asks now, looking up the expanse of Isak’s body and taking in his desperate eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Fuck yes,” Isak says, his voice so breathy it’s almost impossible to hear.

It’s all the encouragement Even needs.  He takes the tip in his mouth.  It feels bigger than he’d expected, has more heft on his tongue as he slides it further in.  Isak’s moans are high pitched as he buries his hands in Even’s hair.  They clench and release rhythmically, not quite tightly enough to be painful.  Even finds he likes it a lot.  He tries to match the movements of his mouth to the movements of those hands, and is rewarded with Isak’s voice starting to cry his name raggedly.  That does something to Even in a way he’s never experienced before.  His name in that voice sounds so fucking sexy that he finds it very hard to concentrate.  His movements, which are already sloppy, become completely chaotic, but Isak doesn’t seem to mind.

His jaw is soon sore as he’s taking Isak further and further into his mouth with every motion.  He’s imagined this moment so many times, wondered what it would be like to have another guy’s cock in his mouth while he writhed under him.  The reality is so much more visceral than he could ever have imagined.  Isak tastes like salt and sweat, and there’s smell too, a musky scent that assaults Even’s nostrils as he works.  Combined, it all manages to make him hard and aching in his own pants.  He wishes he’d had the foresight to remove them so he could have access.  As it is, he can feel himself grinding on the bed as he tries to get some relief.

“Even.   _ Even _ …” Isak finally manages to say as his hands grip tight enough to hurt this time.  Even looks up, startled out of his own thoughts, as his mouth pops off with a sound that rings out obscenely in the quiet of the room.  “I’m going to … fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Oh.” Even grins at him, then moves up to kiss him as his hand grabs Isak’s cock and  starts stroking.  Their lips meet, and Even’s tongue finds its way inside Isak’s mouth just as he feels the warmth as Isak’s come lands on his hand.  Isak breaks the kiss to bury his head in Even’s neck as he rides out the waves.

“Fuck, that was …” Isak mutters against his neck, making Even shudder because his skin is incredibly sensitive as he’s so keyed up.  “So fucking good.”

“Good,” Even says as he takes Isak’s face in his hands and turns it so he can kiss him again.  “I think I need to practice more, though.”

Isak laughs, pressing his forehead against Even’s.  He’s still breathing raggedly as he says, “that sounds good, but it might just kill me.”

He wriggles slightly, then realizes that Even’s dick is still hard as it presses against his thigh.  His eyes widen and he smirks, suddenly moving from breathless post-orgasmic haze to purposeful and confident movements.  Even finds himself flipped onto his back and Jesus  _ fuck,  _ Isak is strong.  Being manhandled like this turns him on even more.

Isak slides down his body, kissing Even and it seems like he’s pressing them wherever he feels like it as he fumbles with Even’s own jeans and boxers.  Even is soon writhing from the uncertainty of where the next kiss will land and the flames that are taking him over now that he’s naked.  It should be embarrassing to be this easily affected, but Isak’s eyes have the same intensity in them and it just feels natural to let himself go like this.  As Isak takes him in his mouth, Even gives in completely.  He lets the feelings sweep him away, allows himself to drown in the sensation of warmth engulfing him, sending electricity flying to every corner of his body.  It’s flying and drowning all at once and it takes only a few bobs of Isak’s head before Even is whimpering as the urge threatens to take him under.  He gasps Isak’s name, pulling desperately on his head to get his attention so he doesn’t accidentally come in his mouth.

The way Isak looks at him as he takes him in his hand and strokes him is enough.  Even comes, feeling wave after wave of pleasure take him over as Isak keeps stroking slowly.  

Once his heart rate has slowed to something resembling normal, Even gathers Isak to him.  They’re still on top of the bed and now both completely naked.  Even’s instinct is to cover them to protect them if someone were to come in, but Isak snuggles into him and he loses that thought.

“We need a better system,” he says eventually.

“Hmmmm?”  Isak’s sleepy, not really following him and Even smiles as he kisses his hair.

“I never want to move after, but then we end up lying around in this sticky mess.”

Isak laughs a little.  He waves a tired hand in the direction of his nightstand and mutters something about toilet paper.  Even grins down at him as he reaches over to grab it and starts wiping his hands.

“You came prepared, huh?”

“Shut up, asshole.”  Isak cuddles into him again as Even finishes swiping up whatever he can from their chests, then gently cleans off Isak’s fingers one by one.  “I didn’t want to mess up another t-shirt.”

“Very wise,” Even says, teasing as he sets the roll aside.  “You’re my smart boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Isak repeats.  His voice is sleepy and his head is so heavy on Even’s chest that he knows Isak is close to sleep.  There’s a smile in it, though, and the sound of Isak being that pleased about it makes Even’s heart leap.  He lies there for a long time after Isak falls asleep just thinking about how lucky he actually is.  His mother was wrong before.  He didn’t have everything he needed back then.  Now he feels like he does, despite the lack of a Beauty, and it makes his heart burst.

The week passes and it keeps getting better.  Even sees Isak as much as he can and mopes when he can’t.  It’d be pathetic if Isak wasn’t exactly as bad.  True to her word, his mother doesn’t welcome Isak into her home, ignoring him if he’s ever over and forbidding Even to go to his room if Isak is around.  That leaves them sitting making stilted and uncomfortable conversation in the lounge or the kitchen.   Her attitude makes Even angrier than he’s been in a long while.  It’s hard to keep the Beast at bay when he confronts her about it, but he manages even though she reiterates that she’s not having ‘this whole thing’ fall to pieces where she can be held responsible.  It takes deep breaths and lots of near misses, but Even does it.  He finds it’s not worth the extra angst that comes with his parents’ disapproval and so he just opts to spend most of his nights with Isak at his place.  The nights they’re apart, they text constantly -- stupid insults and even stupider memes.  It’s never anything important or earth shattering, but it means the world to Even because it means Isak is thinking about him.

Thursday rolls around and they’re about to leave Isak’s room to go out to dinner.  Or rather, they’re about to go get kebab and eat it together on the way back home which is about as close as they get to romantic dates.  Isak is twitchy before they leave, fiddling with his hoodie string and bouncing on his toes.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Even asks, as he runs his hands along Isak’s arms.  Isak immediately sags into Even’s touch and sighs in contentment.  It never fails to make Even’s heart lurch with unexpected delight whenever Isak does this.  He trusts Even, and relaxes at his touch.  It’s something Even’s not used to providing for another and he really likes the feeling it gives him.

“I have a test tomorrow and I forgot my notes at school.”

“Oh.”  Even studies him for a moment.  He’s still not completely relaxed, and Even can tell this means a lot to him.  “Can you borrow someone else’s?”

“I wanted to get kebab with you though.”

Even laughs.  “We can do both.  Look, we’ll just go get some notes first and then get the kebab after.  I don’t want my smart boyfriend worrying about studying all night, it’d ruin my appetite.”

Isak leans even closer to Even.  “You’re so nice, Even.  Let me just text and then we can go.”

He taps on his phone as Even gathers their jackets, then sighs in relief.  “She says it’s fine so long as I get there in the next half hour.”

“Let’s go then,” Even says fondly.  “Wouldn’t want to lose the window of opportunity.”

Isak laughs, looking much happier as they make their way through the streets to the tram.  Even’s so caught up in admiring him and basking in the memory of being called ‘nice’ (something that he’s heard very few times in his life) that he fails to notice how familiar this route is.  So it’s not until they’re disembarking that he realizes where they are and his heart starts pounding.  He can’t back out now, not when Isak is so stressed about this, but he’s terrified of where this might lead.

Sure enough, Isak knocks on a door that’s achingly familiar.  A door that Even hasn’t had to knock on for a while, and which he’d never thought he’d see again.  A door which opens to show the smiling face of Elias.  The smile slips sideways and the eyes widen as Elias catches sight of Even.

“Halla,” he says, looking just about as shellshocked as Even feels.


	5. Chapter 5

Time freezes for one long, breathless moment.  Even stares at his old friend who stares back.  After all this time, after all the stressing Even has done, it’s more anticlimactic than he’d expected.  It’s just three people standing at a door.  Then time is marching on.  Isak is smiling and asking for Sana, and Elias drags his eyes away from Even’s for long enough to yell into the apartment.  Sana yells something back and Elias tilts his head in a way that suggests Isak should go on in and find his disgruntled sister.

That leaves Even alone with Elias.  That’s a lot and he doesn’t know where to look or what to say.  Elias is still hovering in the doorway.  He opens his mouth once as if he’s going to say something, but thinks better of it.  Silence drags between them, leaving tension humming in the air.  Even can feel the Beast rising; not the rage or even the playfulness, but the one that comes out when he’s feeling stressed and anxious.  He’s jittery and feels sick, feels like if he moves or speaks he’ll vomit everything he’s ever eaten.  It’s good, really, that they haven’t eaten yet tonight.  Even’s fairly sure he’d be embarrassing himself right now if they had (okay, embarrassing himself more than he is already, standing here gaping like an idiot).  Elias still doesn’t speak, and the tension (and vomity feeling) becomes unbearable.

Eventually, Even can’t stand it any longer and he rocks on his heels before forcing himself to speak.

“Hey,” he says, his voice squeaky and alarmingly wobbly.

That seems to jolt Elias out of whatever trance he’s been in and he smiles.  “Hey, buddy,” he says, and Even closes his eyes at the familiar fondness of the words.  The tone sets an ache in his heart that threatens to knock Even off his feet.

“I … uh.  How are you?” he says, his eyes on Elias again, trying to gauge how awkward this is going to be.

Elias snorts, a small sound in the stillness of the landing they’re standing on.  He looks like he wants to say any number of things but refrains.  There’s a look on his face which Even used to be intimately familiar with, a look that suggests mischief.  It used to preface a suggestion of some wild reckless act or a prank on one of their friends.  Now, Even doesn’t know what it signals.  Elias cocks his head to the side, examining Even.  

“That’s something you’d know … if you’d kept in touch.”

His voice is colder now, accusing almost.  Even can feel the heat rising on his cheeks.  He looks down, trying hard not to fidget.  It’s hard not to let his anxious Beast out.  He doesn’t need to make this worse by snapping irritably; that’s the sort of shit that got him in trouble with his friends in the first place.  He desperately wishes that there was darkness shrouding him, but there’s a bright glare from the late summer sun which is still streaming into the building through the large windows.  There’s no place to hide, so Even’s still staring at the ground when he speaks; it’s the best he can do to conceal his nerves from Elias.

“Yeah.  I know.  I’m sorry.”

Even can hear the cracks in his voice and he’s appalled at how fucking sensitive he is tonight.  He never used to be this weak.

“Shit, Even.  What’s wrong with you?  You can’t tell when someone’s messing with you anymore?”

Elias is laughing now.  The sound is boisterous and reverberates through the confined space.  He drags Even into a hug.  Even’s frozen in place, his arms dangling uselessly as Elias pushes him back a little to look into his face.  Even’s forgotten what this is like, the way these boys mess with each other, the easy way they joke and then show affection.  It’s been too long and he’s not used to it.  He feels off-kilter and ill at ease.

Elias yells back into the house, “Oi Yousef!  Come here and see what the cat dragged in.”

And isn’t  _ that _ just great?  Elias is okay, but Yousef?  Yousef was all tied up in the _ thing.  _  The thing Even’s mind still shies away from even now.  Even’s heart is beating an erratic melody as he waits for Yousef to appear.  Elias still has him in a firm embrace but doesn’t appear to notice anything amiss.  He’s chattering and laughing and appears to have either not caught on that Even isn’t responding or he’s covering for Even’s lack of response.

Then Yousef’s right there, and Even has to go through the whole complicated mess of emotions again.  Yousef’s face when he arrives goes through a similarly complex series of movements in its turn.  First there’s wide-eyed shock as he catches sight of Even, then a flash of anger as the mouth twists, and finally comes the sadness, the eyes reflecting deep pools of sorrow and the mouth quirking downwards.  It’s an expression that drives a wedge of ice right into Even’s heart.  He doesn’t know where the sadness comes from, not exactly, but it’s very clear that it’s intricately tied to Even.

Yousef’s eyes are large as they fix on him, his throat moves quickly twice and he stalls just inside the door.  There’s a clear barrier being put between him and Even.  Elias coughs once, drawing Yousef’s attention as he releases Even from the hug.

“Oh,” Yousef says.  “Hello.”

“Hey,” Even says again.  

He can’t hold Yousef’s gaze.  There’s too much in it; too much history, too much sorrow, too much pity.  It’s the pity that hits hardest.  No-one’s really pitied Even before.  His parents have been upset, yes, and they supported him right through the whole horrible time.  Sonja worried; her fear and sadness translated into controlling behaviour and excessive anxiety about whatever Even did.  Even’s had no idea what his friends did or felt, since he cut them off so effectively in the wake of it all.  So it’s not until right this minute that Even experiences pity.  It hurts, stabs him with vicious knives.

“How’ve you been?” Yousef asks now, his words holding a meaning deeper than the innocuous question suggests it should.

“Good.  I’m good.”  Even shrugs.  “Life’s okay, you know?”

“Heard you ditched Sonja.”

Elias’s voice holds no condemnation, just curiosity, but Even feels like it must be there anyway.  Of everyone, these guys know why he should be clinging hard to his Beauty.  That Elias’s voice, usually so easy to read, is so devoid of any emotion means he’s trying very hard to be okay but it’s all an act.  Even feels his hackles rising, something that never used to happen with his friends but he can’t stop it happening.  Right now, he feels threatened and cornered.  He’s slipping, his anxiety pushing his emotions so close to the surface that he is close to letting the Beast out.  He clenches his fists in his pockets and forces himself to take a breath before answering.

“Yeah.  I did.”  Even’s chin has tilted up as if challenging them to say something about it.

“She’s a bit confused,” is all Elias has to say, though, and Even slumps a little.

“I know.  It’s complicated.”

The boys let that remark sit without comment.  Even can see the questions in their eyes, and knows they want some sort of explanation, but he can’t do that right now.  Eventually, Yousef speaks.

“Did she tell you we want to talk?”

Even blushes again.  “She did.”

“But you don’t want to.”  Elias isn’t angry; he sounds resigned.  “I did think, maybe, when you came here...”

“Oh.  I’m … uh.  Isak.  He’s just getting some notes.  I didn’t realize he was coming here, or …”

Even trails off.  It seems so dismissive somehow for him to say that if he’d realized his old friends were going to be involved that he wouldn’t have come.  Elias and Yousef seem to get it anyway.  They share a look.  Elias’s face drops with his disappointment while Yousef just looks sad again, his eyes flicking up to Even’s then away with a quiet grace that tugs at Even’s heart.

“Well, when you do want to talk we’ll be here.”

Even nods.  He knows that.  He’s grateful that they aren’t pushing, feels like a total asshole for being relieved that he’s escaped so easily.  They stand awkwardly for a few moments, silence creating distance between them.

A clatter sounds inside the house and relief floods Even when he hears the golden tones of Isak’s laughter as he comes closer.  Just the sound of it diminishes some of Even’s tension and he smiles as Isak appears; the mere sight of him is enough to relax Even.  Sana walks up behind Yousef.  She softens noticeably as she spots him, then stops talking abruptly as a small smile appears on her lips.  Isak rolls his eyes as he pushes past her, a sheaf of papers clutched in his hands.  He’s hardly better than her at concealing his feelings, though.  His eyes light on Even and he smiles too, a slow blooming curl of his lips meant only for Even.  Out of the corner of his eye, Even can see the speculative look Yousef gives them before turning to smile at Sana.

“You’ll treat those right,” Sana is now admonishing Isak who’s rolling his eyes again and sniggering, though his attention is at least half on Even.  His eyes flicker in Even’s direction and there’s a small frown creasing between his brows even while he banters with Sana.

“Thanks, Sanasol,” he says.  “You’re a lifesaver.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for some dinner?” Sana asks now.

Isak casts one glance at Even, and he can clearly tell that isn’t a good idea.  Even thought he had his tension under control, but somehow Isak can sense it.  He surreptitiously moves closer and lets his fingers close briefly on Even’s hand.  He turns a blinding smile on Sana and shakes his head in answer to her question.

“No thanks, Sana.  We promised Eskild some kebab, and you know he’ll kill us if we’re not back with it within the next half hour.”

Sana laughs and nods, her dimples on show though she’s stiffer than usual.  Yousef’s looking at her with such naked fondness that Even’s almost embarrassed, but Sana seems to think she’s hiding the way she feels and that Yousef is oblivious. Elias clearly sees everything and is greatly amused by it.  He catches Even’s gaze and smirks a little as he ostentatiously glances between them all.  Even lifts his shoulders in a rueful shrug; he’s not going to deny what he feels for Isak. 

“Next time, then, Isabell,” Sana is saying.  “You have to promise me.”

Isak nods, but his attention is on getting away now, so his farewell is perfunctory and Even can tell he’s probably going to forget the invitation within the hour.  Even smiles briefly, an awkward twist of his lips, as he nods goodbye to the people he’d never expected to see tonight.

By the time they’re away from the area, Even is shaking.  His knees are weak and he has to clench his hands in his pockets again just to keep himself centered.  Isak pulls him to a halt and wraps his arms around him.  It’s such a comfort that Even sinks into the embrace, dragging his rebellious hands out of his pockets and clutching Isak as if he’s a lifeline.  Normally he’d be concerned that someone might see them, and that they’d figure out they are together.  But right now he needs this.

“Isak,” he says as he buries his face in his shoulder.  Isak holds him for several long minutes. Even buries his fear, and the sobs that want to escape, in Isak’s neck.  He can feel his body letting go, relaxing the tension that’s been sitting in his shoulders since the moment he realized where they were going.

“That seemed intense,” Isak says eventually as he releases Even.  It’s clear that he wants to know what was going on, but he’s not going to push.  Even lets out his breath in a slow whistle and smiles at Isak.

“Yeah,” he says, then realizes he needs to say something else.  “I used to know them, but we haven’t talked in ages.”

Isak deserves more, Even knows that, but he can’t give it to him yet.  Somehow Isak senses that and so he doesn’t pry any further.  Just accepts whatever Even is saying and moves them in the direction of the kebab shop.  Not for the first time, Even is profoundly grateful for the person Isak is. 

It takes Even a few days to get over the unexpected meeting.  His nerves are on high alert and he feels jittery and twitchy all the time.  His fingers drum nervous rhythms on his legs as he walks, and he can’t help flinching whenever he hears a laugh or a voice that reminds him of Elias or the others.  It’s not that Even expects his old friends to jump out and try to talk to him again, but the suddenness of the meeting, and the awkwardness particularly of seeing Yousef again, has left Even jumping at shadows and scared of his own reflection.

To make matters worse, Even hasn’t been able to see Isak as much over these last few days.  They’ve both had things to do.  Isak’s had studying and some vague ‘family issues’ to attend to.  Even’s been working, and had to go to see his therapist for an extra session because his parents are far too concerned about his life.  They’ve been complaining about him spending so much time with someone he’s known for such a short while, which is just so damn hypocritical given how fast they welcomed Isak into their house when they thought he was just a new friend Even had made.  It irritates Even that they feel this way.  Can’t they see how good Isak is for him?  How much happier he is now?  He blurts this out in his session and the therapist stares at him for a long time.

“How are you feeling right now, Even?” she asks.  Her long fingers tap a rhythm on the paper with her pen and Even finds himself fixated on it.  He unconsciously mirrors it with his fingers tapping on his own leg.  The beat resonates in his head and he grins.

“I’m fine, great.”  He shuffles back in the seat and spreads his legs out long in front of him and loops his hands casually behind his head.  “Life’s really awesome.”  He doesn’t elaborate, isn’t interested in telling her about the jittery worries that plague him about his friends.  He doesn’t bring up his parents again either, hopes she forgets what he just said about wishing they’d appreciate his happiness.  He’s not here of his own free will, after all.  Telling her the things that are bothering him will just end in a longer session and even more scheduled.  He doesn’t need that shit in his life right now, not when it’s eating into his time with Isak.  He doesn’t want to tell her about Isak in too much detail either; those feelings are his and his alone.  No-one else needs to know them.  

Even is aware that he  _ should _ talk about this, that he should explore the ways his relationship is going to affect both of them.  But she’s made her disdain for anything outside of proper archetype pairs well known to him before and Even’s not willing to endure a lecture.  So he shrugs again, and tells her a half lie.  “I’m happy, things with everyone are great and I’m doing well.”

“Hmmm,” she says, noting the words down carefully.  “And you say you broke up with your girlfriend?”

“Yeah?  What of it?  That’s  _ why _ I’m so happy.”

“So there’s no Beauty in your life at the moment and yet you feel happy and settled?  Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”

“No I don’t,” Even says, scowling at her, feeling a growl rising in his throat.  He quickly thumps _ that _ back down where it can’t escape; letting that out in a session would be catastrophic.  But internally he groans.  Why can’t this woman at least be happy for him?  She’s the one who’s supposed to help him feel good, so she should be fucking pleased right now.

“Hmmmm,” she says again and looks him over carefully before moving on.

It’s frustrating, Even thinks as he walks to school afterwards.  All he wants to do these days is see Isak, be with Isak.  Love is heady and intoxicating, and Even can’t get enough of burying his nose in Isak’s curls, or talking to him about all the small details of their days and the bigger existential ideas that Isak buzzes with, or having his arms wrapped around Isak’s body, or feeling Isak’s hands on his own.  There’s more to it than getting off, of course, but Even would be lying if he didn’t acknowledge that he thinks about sex roughly 100% of the time right now.  His body craves Isak’s in a way that’s foreign; he’s so used to utilitarian sex that this craving is all-encompassing.  They can be just finished and Even wants it again, all the time.  He’s drunk on it, drunk on Isak and when they aren’t together Even feels it as a physical ache that itches in his fingertips and burrows into his chest.  

He arrives at Nissen after his session just as break starts, and so it’s a clattery, loud cacophony surrounding him as he pushes the doors into the school and heads towards his locker.  Shoe soles squeak on the floor and students laugh, bright and irritating, as they make their way through the halls.  The sounds echo around and Even can feel the tension starting to knit his shoulder blades together.  He thinks for a few moments that he should just turn around and head back out the door.  It was solid under his fingers, and reassuring.  It promised stability and Even’s really desperate to grab it again, shut its solid comforting presence behind him, and pretend the school doesn’t exist.

“Even!” someone yells, the voice excited and joyful.  It’s not one he’s familiar with and Even’s head snaps up as he scans the room for the source.  Oh.  It’s Magnus.  He’s waving his arms enthusiastically and beckoning to Even.   Behind him, Mahdi is grinning, his eyes alight with happiness, and Jonas is there too, a slight crease between his brows but a welcome in his eyes.  Even smiles slightly and waves back, earning him a whoop of joy from Magnus.

He pushes his way through the throng of students and makes his way to the boys.  They shout approval as he arrives and Even relaxes into a grin.  Jonas shakes his hand thoroughly, Mahdi grins again as he takes his outstretched hand and Magnus pulls him into another hug.  It’s still loud and boisterous around him, but Even feels less stress now as he sinks into a bubble these guys create around themselves.

“Hey, guys.  What’s up?”

“We wanted to get some cred for hanging out with a third year,” Mahdi says.

“No,” Magnus says, confusion stamped all over his face.  “We wanted to check out Isak’s boyfriend properly.”

Jonas groans, and rubs his hand on his face while Mahdi swipes at Magnus.  He’s still standing there blinking at everyone while Even’s heart freezes a little before thawing slightly as Jonas claps him on the back.

“What Magnus means to say is that we figure we should get to know you.  Since, you know, you’re going to be a part of Isak’s life now.  Right?”

Even nods, still slightly shocked at the turn this is taking.  “Yeah,” he says, his voice a little hoarse.  “I hope so anyway.”

Jonas frowns a little as he examines Even, his eyes flicking up and down as he assesses his body language.  Even shifts restlessly, feeling those Wise Man eyes boring into him as anxiety floods him again.  He’s sure now that Jonas has a good idea of everything, and he’s waiting for him to let it slip to the rest of the guys.  He’s bracing himself for it, so when Jonas does speak, what he says is the last thing Even expected.  

“Why do you say that like you can’t see it lasting?”

_ Because I’m an asshole and we’re not compatible types and everyone says we don’t have a hope in hell, _ Even thinks, but he doesn’t say it.  “Because we’re … uh.  There are differences.  You can’t guarantee anything, right?”

“Hmmm,” Jonas says as he looks at Even.  He has an unsettled feeling that Jonas knows exactly why Even is so careful with his words.  “How much do you know about Outcasts, Even?” he asks, eerily reinforcing what Even had been thinking.

“Uh.  Not much.  They hang on the margins a bit, I think.  Don’t really fit into a certain mold.  Something like that.”

“You said ‘they,’” Magnus says excitedly.  “Didn’t he, guys?  He said ‘they’ not ‘we.’” He turns to Even with a glow in his eyes.  “Are you not an Outcast?  Isak was a bit vague about that.”

Everything in Even snaps onto high alert.  Adrenalin floods him, and his shoulders arch a little getting ready to fight.  He’s poised to snap and snarl, protect his secrets.  However, Even knows that whatever happens right here is going to set the tone for the future he has with these guys.  It’s hard, but he makes himself relax and tell some version of the truth.

‘I.  Uh … no.  No, I’m not.”

Magnus’s eyes go wide.  “Wow.   _ Wow. _  Out of archetype.  That’s … wow.”  He opens his mouth to say more, but Mahdi thumps him on the arm and shoots him a warning glare.

“Yes thanks, Magnus.  I think Even has the picture,” he says.

“There’s a bit more to Outcasts than that,” Jonas says, now turning to Even.  

There’s something in his voice that sends a burst of panic through Even.  It’s so very clear that Jonas wants to say something more, but the bell rings, shrill even against the clatter of students banging lockers and laughing.  Jonas grimaces.  

“Do you want to meet sometime and we can talk more?” he says to Even.  

“Yeah.  Yeah, why not?” Even says.  Then he gets bold, protective.  “But I think if you’re going to talk about Isak, he should probably be there.”

“Yeah, of course. That’s a good … a good idea.”

Jonas doesn’t sound sure of that, but Even’s sick of people trying to tell Isak’s stories for him.  First Eskild and now these guys.  It sets Even’s teeth on edge, reminding him of his parents and Sonja and the way they kept trying to do things for his own good without consulting him first.  It may be a Beast thing, but Even feels like he has to protect Isak from all this.  It’s not right to talk behind people’s backs, and he refuses to do it, and particularly not to Isak.  So he stares Jonas down for a few seconds before getting a resigned nod.

They’re moving in opposite directions now, but Even catches one last smile from them all as they separate.  His heart is beating erratically and he’s even more sure that he should have just gone back out the door and made his way home.  That conversation skirted far too close to forbidden topics and Even knows whatever’s coming is going to test his resolve not to reveal his own type.  He’s just got used to being accepted and not looked at as a freak or potential aggressor while at this school; no matter how much he told himself he didn’t care just a few short days ago, Even’s now terrified again that this is it.  The moment when it all comes to light and the school suddenly turns on him because he’s a Beast.

Even’s skin feels tight around his bones, like it’s squeezing all the life out of him and leaving just a husk.  A husk that’s made up of fear, anxiety and a desperation for sex.  It feels so disrespectful of Isak to be thinking this way, but Even can’t help it.  All he wants right now is Isak’s hands on him, settling him and making him feel the intense joy only Isak can bring.  Instead, he’s trapped in yet another boring class where he ends up sketching rather than paying proper attention.  This time it’s the curve of a hip, a mouth open in ecstasy, a hand clutching a sheet.  There’s nothing to say who Even’s drawing, but with every stroke he’s imagining Isak is there with him.  All he wants is to get him home and press him onto a bed.

The day drags, only made slightly bearable by the random texts Isak sends him every now and then.  Mostly memes again, with the occasional heart emoji just to fuck with Even’s emotions even more.  Just as school’s finishing and Even’s counting down the seconds before he can see Isak, his phone lights up again.

_ The boys say they saw you today.  They want to hang at my place after school.  Is that ok with you? _

Even huffs a laugh.  He can’t really say  _ no tell them to fuck off because I want to get off with you, _ so he settles for a sadface emoji.  Then sends another quick message to say  _ of course, so long as they don’t mind me being there.  I miss you _

Even can almost see the eyeroll Isak must be giving as he sends the follow up text.

_ Asshole.  It’s you they want to see _

While Even knew that must be the case, given the tone of today’s chat, the idea still frightens him.  He’s not sure how long he can last without giving it all away.  They’re going to be at Isak’s place and Eskild and Linn both know.  What if one of them lets it slip?  How long before the boys turn on him?  How long before they send it around the school that there’s an ugly type running among them?  How long, in short, before everything Even’s built comes crashing down?  When he answers, he tries to keep his fears away from Isak; he doesn’t want to scare him.

_ Well I am pretty amazing _

_ Meet out the front in ten? First one there wins whatever he wants _

Despite his worries, Even laughs, shoves his phone in his pocket and makes his way out of his classroom and through the hallways to his locker.  He’s out front waiting in less than five minutes, hopping from foot to foot as time drags.  It’s an eternity before he hears cheerful voices breaking the silence and spots the familiar red snapback arriving around a corner.

Isak’s eyes light up and he grins.  The three boys behind him whoop as he makes his way to Even and stands as close as he dares.  There are still one or two other students milling around and Isak is clearly not yet ready to declare their coupledom in public.  At the thought, ice churns in Even’s chest, sending cold waves of panic through his whole body, and he thinks that he’s actually not all that ready himself.  They content themselves with a whispered, “halla” and a brief press of fingertips together.

By the time they’ve made it onto the tram and have managed to get seats together near the back, Isak has his pinky hooked around Even’s.  The feeling is making Even’s heart race and his skin is on fire at the contact.  It’s so innocent and yet it means so much that he’s getting a boner just thinking about it.  Which is inconvenient in this company.  He wills himself to think of other things, boring things like what he has to do when he visits his grandmother next, to try to stave it off.  The problem is that it’s been so fucking long since he saw Isak and all the thinking about sex has not been good to Even, so it’s near impossible to control right now.  Not when Isak’s finger moves enticingly back and forth on Even’s (and he knows exactly what he’s doing and the effect he’s having, the asshole), not when the curve of Isak’s jaw as he chats with his friends is so damn gorgeous and moves so beautifully as he laughs, not when his body is pressed against Even’s in the confines of the seat.  Definitely not when he turns his head and smiles at Even, a slow smile that lights him up and makes Even’s heart flip again.  

By the time they get to Isak’s apartment, Even’s in a very bad way.  He has to excuse himself to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water in order to tame himself.  And isn’t that a damn interesting word?  Tame.  It worries Even that he’s starting to lose a sense of control over his body and that’s a terrifying thought.  How long before the Beast comes out?  How long before the guys notice?  Worse, how long before he does something Beast-like and pushes Isak too far?

“Even!” Isak calls out.  “You’re needed for FIFA in here.”

Even smiles and pushes the thoughts away.  They’ve had the much-needed effect of making his boner disappear so that’s one thing he’s accomplished.  Even heads out to the living room and slides onto the seat beside Isak.  Now that they’re home and there are no prying eyes, Isak grins at him and snuggles in right next to Even on the couch, propping his head on Even’s shoulder and dropping one leg casually over one of Even’s.

“Hey, baby,” he whispers, lifting his head for long enough to press a short kiss onto Even’s lips before he turns back to his friends.  They’re all watching with varying degrees of interest and fondness.  

Jonas looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it.  His mouth is tilted into a small smile, though, and he nods at Even.  It feels like a benediction.  Even remembers when he first saw Jonas and he acted so wary and unsure of Even.  He’s not sure why, but something reckless stirs within him.

“You didn’t like me,” he says to Jonas.

“Huh?  Who said?”  Jonas’s gaze is pulled away from Isak and rests now on Even.  He genuinely looks like he has no idea what Even is talking about.

“You didn’t have to say.  The first time I met you, you didn’t like me.”

Jonas looks ashamed now, his cheeks stained with a slight blush but there’s an uneasy grin on his face and he shakes his head.

“Well, I could tell you weren’t … aren’t … like the rest of us, not the usual types you meet everywhere.  It was a bit unsettling.  I’m used to be being able to tell what type people are and I just couldn’t with you.”

Even flushes, trying to keep himself from squirming.  Beasts aren’t that common, and he knows that, but it’s weird to hear them skirting so close like this.  There are only a limited number of the rarer types, and it’s a mere matter of time before they hit on the right one.  His heart is thudding as he gets ready to jump in if they get too close to the truth, but he’s saved by Mahdi and he relaxes again.

“Wait wait wait.  You met him before us?”

_ “That’s _ the important thing you’re taking away from this, Mahdi?”  Isak’s voice is amused and his head is a comfortable presence on Even’s shoulder.  Despite all the frustrated thinking Even’s been doing about sex lately, now that he actually has Isak here Even is content to cuddle like this.  Desire is flowing between them, that’s a given, but there’s a calm peace to this moment as well and Even is okay with sitting like this for the next eternity if that means he gets to keep feeling this way.

Magnus is looking at Even with a quizzical expression on his face.  “But if he’s not like the rest of us, then does that mean you haven’t met his type before?” he asks, turning to Jonas.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jonas says.  “It was a mystery for a while.”

“But it’s not now?”

Even’s chest is a mass of frozen ice and he’s shuddering, the soft moment with Isak lost in a haze of tension.  This really is it; they’re going to find out and they’re going to freak out and reject him.  Isak is going to lose his friends and it’s all Even’s fault.  He’s such a toxic influence that even when he’s trying to do a good thing this is what happens.  Isak lays a hand on his thigh and presses a little.  Even can feel the sharp, quick breaths he’s been taking slowly change back to something resembling normality.  Hopefully no-one else noticed.

“I don’t think that’s important, though,” Isak is saying.  His voice is firm and his rigid pose and gritted smile make it clear he’s not going to allow this conversation to develop any further.  “I know what type he is, and that’s all that matters.”

Jonas looks at them and nods his understanding.  Magnus looks disappointed and Mahdi curious, but they nod too.  

The one thing Even takes away from the comment, though, is that Isak didn’t tell them.  Not even when he was so angry at Even that he cut him off.  He kept Even’s secret, and that makes Even feel cherished again.  He kisses Isak’s ear and whispers, “thank you, baby,” to him.  “You’re good people.”

Isak blushes and buries his head in Even’s neck.  He’s shaking his head as if he doesn’t believe that.  As if no-one’s bothered to tell him that before.  It unsettles Even a little.  He finds it hard to believe that confident, secure Isak is apparently not so secure inside.  Jonas catches Even’s eye and nods.  He’s clearly trying to communicate something via his raised eyebrow and expressive eyes, but Even can’t quite make it out.  

FIFA goes on and attention drifts away from types and onto the game.  Isak comes out of his hiding place and takes the first turn against Mahdi.  Mahdi is so competitive he trounces everyone who plays against him, and Even finds himself yelling at the screen with the others when Jonas comes close to actually beating him.  In the end, Mahdi remains the undefeated champion and Even is breathless from laughing.  Isak is now sitting almost fully on Even’s lap, and resting his head back against his chest.  It feels comfortable and warm, and Even is lost in how amazing it feels to be here with this boy and his friends.

“You’re a fucking cheat, Mahdi,” Magnus says as he throws the controller on the floor in disgust at the end.  “Just because you’re a Charming doesn’t mean you should get to win everything.”

“I think you’ll find it’s not my type, it’s my superior abilities, Magnus.”

“Whatever,” Magnus grumbles.  “You have a cool type; it’s not fair you get to be good at everything too.”

Jonas pats him on the hand.  “Your type is pretty cool, Magnus.”

Isak snorts.  “No it isn’t.  He’s a Fool.  That’s like … objectively bad.”

Magnus protests and the conversation swirls on, but Even has frozen again at the comments.  He knows Isak doesn’t care about him being a Beast, knows he’s just messing with his friend.  But it still hurts that he can so casually say something like that about someone’s type.  Isak twists a little until he can look at Even’s face.  When he catches sight of Even’s expression his own face drops and he quickly ducks in for a kiss.  Even feels like a fucking asshole for making him feel that way.

“I’m sorry,” Isak says and he looks so small and timid when he says it that Even’s heart constricts.  “Magnus doesn’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Even asks.  He glances at Magnus who does, indeed, look unphased by the conversation.  The other boys are still ribbing him and he’s laughing even while he defends himself.

“Yeah I think so,” Isak says.  “It’s always like this.”

Even’s still not sure, but he wishes he himself had the same confidence.  The same ability to go ‘yeah this stuff about my type sucks, but I’m totally okay with it’ that is exuding from Magnus.

It’s not long after the game ends that the boys decide to pack it in and go home. Isak pads out to the hallway with them to let them out.  Even can hear the conversation from where he’s sitting and it makes his heart sing a little.

“He’s pretty cool, Isak,” Jonas is saying.  “Maybe invite him to more stuff.”

“Yeah, I like him,” Magnus adds.  “He’s very tall.”

Isak’s laughing and asking why height is so important and Magnus is saying something in his usual protesting tone as the door shuts behind them.  It’s nice, Even thinks, to be accepted like this.  He knows his mother doesn’t approve that he’s hidden his type, that for her it led to some very bad experiences, but it’s been mostly successful as a strategy for him so far.  And it’s moments like this that make him think he was right to do it.

Isak returns, sliding onto the couch next to him again and sighing deeply as he buries himself back into Even’s chest.

“Can you stay?” he asks.  “I need you.”

Isak looks tired and run down now, and it seems like he’s totally different to the way he’d been when the boys were here.  Then, he was alert, bouncy, sarcastic; in short, he was his usual self.  Now, he’s drooping, his eyes are hooded and his face is sad.  Even’s heart swells as he realizes he’s been trusted with how Isak is truly feeling right now, and he smiles.  “Of course.”

Hearing those words is amazing.  Isak needs him.  He’s not very open, finds it hard to let Even into his thoughts and fears and worries, but he’s not shy of letting him know when he feels Even’s presence is a necessity in his life.  The mere thought of that is enough to make Even dizzy with the happiness that overtakes him.  He’s needed, and that is such a painfully different experience to anything he’s felt previously that Even can hardly breathe with it.

“I need food and then bed, I think,” Isak is saying now.

Belying his words, Isak has snuggled in closer as if he’s trying to mold his body to Even’s.  His fingers are tightening on Even’s shirt and he shivers as Even runs his own fingers through his hair.  Even presses a kiss to those curls which are sitting at odd angles due to the restless way Isak has been running his fingers through them.

“Is that a hint?” he asks.

“What?”

Smiling, Even kisses Isak’s hair again.  “That you want me to make food?”

Rather than making Isak smile, the way Even expects, he sits up and pushes himself back so he can see Even’s face.  His expression is concerned, his lips set in a frown and a crease on his forehead.

“Even.  No.  Why on earth would you think that?”

“I always make the food.  That’s always been my job,” he says now and Isak looks at him like he’s an enigma, like that’s the strangest thing he’s ever heard in his life.

“But it’s my house,” he says.  “The host cooks; isn’t that how it is?”

That puzzles Even.  This is part of his life’s experience.  It was always one of the things he gave Sonja.  She wasn’t keen on cooking and so Even would do it.  It was the protector in him coming out; making food allowed him to provide for his Beauty in a way he never managed monetarily because he never had any money.  As a Beast, that had always felt off, so he had found another way to do it.  And he assumed that now it’d be the same way.  That he’d be the one making the food, doing the providing.  That’s his  _ job, _ isn’t it?

In the end Isak does cook because he insists, and Even enjoys this novelty as he watches him flitting around in the kitchen.  Isak knows what he’s doing, though he’s tied to a recipe book for the most part.  Every so often he calls out things like, “can you find the big knife for me?  No, not that one … yeah, that’s it,” or “I need you to stir this for a moment please,” and Even’s happy to help.  There’s something blissful in this domesticity with Isak.  Even sneaks a kiss on his way past and Isak smiles and leans into it.  There’s a longing creeping into Even’s chest now, a desire to keep this forever.  It’s so different to Sonja.  With her, he felt like he wanted to be with her in the moments that they had, during the good times he’d always enjoyed the time they spent together, but he never thought about the future.  Not in this way, not with a yearning like the one he has now.

Once they’ve eaten and cleaned up, Isak drags Even back to his bedroom.  He settles down onto his bed with a sigh.  It’s not contentment, though, and his eyes are hooded as his hands shield them from the bright overhead light.  He’s not looking at Even, and there’s something sad in the way his mouth is tilted.  His lips are clenched shut in a way that indicates he’s trying to keep them from wobbling.  It breaks Even’s heart to see him this way.

“What’s the matter?” Even asks, climbing on after Isak.  He lies on his side next to him, rubbing his hands over his arms, trying to help Isak relax.

“I’m a little stressed,” Isak says.  He turns over to face Even and in this light Even can see the dark circles under his eyes; he’s been very good at keeping this hidden but in this light it’s all laid bare.  “I’m not sleeping so well, and there’s stuff … with my family.  It’s all a bit shit.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Isak smiles, a small sad lift of his lips, but it’s genuine and Even can see the affection in the eyes he turns towards him.

“No, not really.  I can’t do anything so talking just makes it worse.”

Isak sighs, and it makes him sound small and tired.  Even finds himself clutching Isak close to his body as if he can protect him from those feelings somehow.

“Okay.  What do you want to do?”

“Just lie here, with you.  You help me sleep.”

And that, Even thinks as he gathers his boyfriend more firmly into his arms and rubs his back soothingly to try to help him settle, is just about the most thrilling thing he’s ever been told.  He watches as Isak’s lids get heavier and heavier, as they send him sliding towards the oblivion of sleep.  It’s so special to be trusted like this and Even thanks everything he can that he’s able to do this.  Isak is so relaxed in his sleep, his mouth open and his cheek pressed against Even’s shoulder, that he feels happy being here like this.  

He can’t sleep, though.  The light is still bright overhead, and Even doesn’t feel tired at all.  His own thoughts whirl and he realizes Jonas never got around to telling him about Outcasts and what ‘more’ there was to them.  He gets a restless feeling and needs to know.  So after a while he carefully slides himself out from under Isak and lays him gently on the bed.  He rifles through his jeans pocket until he locates his phone and pulls it out.  One glance at Isak says he’s still sleeping, so Even lies back down next to him and pulls up a search on Outcasts.  There’s not a lot there, but what there is is fascinating.  

By the time Isak blinks awake a few hours later, Even’s brain is humming.  He still hasn’t needed to sleep and his energy is still high.  He’s sitting up against the wall at the head of the bed watching with fondness as Isak opens his eyes.  Even grins at him.

“I’ve been researching,” he says proudly.

“Hmmm?” Isak is still blinking sleep out of his eyes and looks groggy and spaced out as if he hasn’t quite returned from his dreams.

“About Outcasts.  I figured I should know more about you.”

Isak smiles, sleepily.  “That’s so cute.  But you could just ask me.”

Even shrugged.  “You were asleep and the internet was right there.”

With a slightly more energetic smile and a roll of his eyes, Isak asks, “so what did you learn?”

“So much stuff, Isak.   _ So _ much.  The most.”

With a huff, Isak pushes Even’s legs down and sits on him.  He grins at him. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“Okay, okay.  I found out that Outcasts take a long time to trust people, that you don’t like being labelled and that you can be rebels, like bad boys a little?”

Even can hear the breathless nature of his voice and he cringes at how obvious he’s being.  Isak, of course, picks up on it immediately.

“That turns you on, does it?”

Even lets his hands wander up the sides of Isak’s thighs, and squeezes in a way that makes Isak’s own breath catch.  “A bit, yeah,” he says.  “I can see myself with a bad boy boyfriend.”

Isak laughs.  “I’m just a trophy to you then?”

“Never,” Even sighs as he sits up a little to press kisses to Isak’s lips.  Once he settles back against the wall, he continues in a more serious tone. “It’s nice, though.  That you trust me.  After all that stuff, that means a lot.”

Isak’s looking down at him with a mix of awe and affection.  Even can’t understand why he feels that way; there’s nothing about Even that should inspire awe.  Then he feels tears prick his eyes as Isak adds, “I do.  I do trust you.  Even when I wanted not to, I couldn’t help it.”

Even’s heart swells; those words tug at him in a way that steals his breath.  “I was the same,” he says, offering Isak a reciprocation of sorts.  He deserves to know he has the same effect on Even.  “I wanted to forget you, to force myself to be angry that you wouldn’t listen to me, but all I felt was sad, like I’d let you down.  I couldn’t stop thinking about you, though.”

Isak’s smile when it comes is blinding, lighting him up from the inside.  “You’re so fucking amazing, you know that?” he asks.

Even shakes his head.  “I’m really not,” he says.

“Are you saying shit about my boyfriend?” Isak asks, giggling, and Even laughs too.

“Just telling it like it is.”

Isak sighs and shakes his head fondly.  “What am I going to do with you?” he asks now.  “You’re so down on yourself all the time.”

It makes Even feel uncomfortable.  Of course he is; he’s a Beast.  There’s not a lot there to be proud of.  He says as much to Isak who just looks infinitely sad.  He settles down on Even, lying so he’s almost entirely on top of him, and looks into Even’s eyes with a serious look on his face.

“Do you know the shit side of being an Outcast, Even?”

“No, not really.”

“It’s that everyone thinks you’re a bit odd.  That you don’t fit in.  They try to figure out why, what it is about you that’s so wrong or different.  They act like they’re okay with it, but I know if they knew what is actually wrong with me they’d run.”

Even feels so angry at the world for making Isak feel this way, but he knows that anger isn’t going to help right now, so instead he starts the rhythmic rubbing on Isak’s back again and makes sure his voice is light and playful when he speaks.  

“There’s something wrong with you?”  

Isak smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Yeah.  I like guys.”  Isak shrugs.  “My mother made it very clear as I was growing up that it wasn’t okay.”

“Isak, baby.”  Even can hear the heartbreak in his own voice at Isak’s matter of fact recount of his experiences and thoughts.  “That’s not something that’s wrong with you.”

“It is what makes me different, though.  It’s what makes me an Outcast.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“But shouldn’t that mean I’d be an Outcast?  And Eskild?”

Isak shrugs again.  “I thought you were for a long time, remember.  It made sense to me.  I’m broken in this way and that’s what I am, so if you liked me too -- and I thought you might -- then maybe you were too.  It felt nice.  To have someone be like me.”

“I am like you, baby.  Just … it’s not wrong, okay?   _ We’re _ not wrong.”

Isak smiles again.  It’s small and sad and doesn’t look entirely convinced.  “I needed to hear that, I think,” he says, “even if it’s hard to take in.”

Even’s heart collapses a little as he listens to Isak put himself down.  He’s so beautiful, in a way that still makes Even dizzy with desire and amazed that he’s even here.  But more than that, he’s a person who does good things, who cares about others and who makes mistakes but tries to learn from them.  He’s a person who will give someone else another chance even if he doesn’t deserve it.  He’s a good fucking person, and this … well, it hurts Even to hear Isak talk this way about himself.  He resolves to do whatever he can to help Isak get past this idea.

The look on Isak’s face is so sad that Even can’t help but press kisses everywhere he can reach in an attempt to cheer him up.  Gone are all thoughts of sex for now.  That doesn’t seem right when Isak is feeling so out of sorts.  So, even though Even really wants to and even though his dick keeps trying to show interest, he pushes his own desires aside and focuses on Isak.

It doesn’t take long before Isak is laughing again, but Even can feel the underlying tension.  He’s always been sensitive to the way people feel, often getting waves of emotion off them, and it’s been particularly strong with Isak.  But now what he feels is so subdued and unlike Isak that he’s worried.

“You’d tell me if the stuff with your family was really bad, right?” he asks.

Isak, startled, looks up at him.  “Yeah, I promise.  But it’s not … not really bad.  Just frustrating I guess.  My mamma, she’s … “ he trails off, obviously unwilling to delve too deeply into it.  

Even nods.  He knows that feeling.  Isak remembers something too.  “You know you can talk to me too, right?” he says.  “About whatever that stuff was with your friends.”

Even takes in a sharp breath before he nods again.  He owes Isak this much, just … not now.  Not while Isak is so fragile, so vulnerable.  He doesn’t need Even piling his shit on right now.  But soon, yeah.  He needs to tell him about Bakka, about the boys and about being bipolar.  But now isn’t the time.  Instead, he pulls Isak back down so he’s a comforting weight on Even’s chest, keeping him tethered.

“I will, baby.  I promise one day I will.  But I think we should sleep again now.”

They should get changed, at least remove their restrictive jeans, but Even’s too comfortable here and he doesn’t want to make Isak move right now, so he just wraps his arms around him more firmly and allows himself to drift off to sleep.  Remarkably after his earlier nap, Isak is already there, his slight snuffles against Even a lullaby which eases Even into his own dreams.

When they wake again, there’s sunlight already streaming into the room from behind Isak’s ugly orange blanket curtain.  At this time of year that’s not really a surprise, but Even hadn’t expected to be able to sleep so long.  Ever since his run-in with his old friends he’s been so anxious that sleep has eluded him.  He smiles.  It’s Isak again and the effect he has; he calms Even and allows him to relax in a way he’s seldom able to with other people.

Even checks his watch and groans.  They have to get up and go to school.  His impulse is to leave Isak asleep and let him miss school.  The dark circles under his eyes are less apparent now, but they’re still there even while his face is relaxed in sleep, and Even would give anything to let him stay here, lost in whatever dreams he’s having right now.  But Isak is a studier, and his classes mean so much to him, that Even knows he wouldn’t thank him if he left him here.  So he runs a gentle finger down Isak’s face, following the line of his cheek and jaw then caressing his lips a little.  By the time Even reaches the middle of his bottom lip, Isak is smiling.  His eyes are still closed, but they’re fluttering and Isak is stirring a little.

“Baby?” Even asks.  “You’ve got to wake up.  We have to go to school.”

Isak groans and tries to pull the blanket over his head, but Even pushes it back down.  Finally, Isak blinks awake with possibly the most gorgeous grumpy look on his face that Even has ever seen.  Even beams.

“There you are!”

Isak smiles at him before reluctantly getting out of bed.  They putter around getting ready for the day and Even can feel his heart constricting yet again as he imagines doing this all the time.  They move easily around each other, one sliding into a spot the other just vacated as they brush teeth, make toast, gather books and bags.  Then they’re heading to school together and the magic drains away.  The day intrudes and Even is disgruntled.  They separate at the door to the school with no parting kiss, just a longing look and a promise to see each other again that evening.

After school, Even spends just enough time at his apartment to reassure his mother that he exists.  Not that he thinks she deserves it after the way she’s been treating Isak, but he knows she gets worried if he stays away for too long.  She’s on alert looking for signs of his mania flaring up or for moments when his Beast gets the better of him.  It’s easier to indulge her, let her see him most days, even if he has to conceal the rage she generates in him.  Even if he has to spend the whole trip to Isak’s trying to get rid of it so he doesn’t let it spill into the time he has with Isak.

By the time he gets to the Kollectiv and is let in by Eskild, Even has himself mostly under control.  He makes his way to Isak’s room and pauses to admire what he sees through the doorway.

Isak’s sitting on his bed, cross legged.  He’s got one finger on the page of a technical-looking book, and he’s mouthing the words to himself with his forehead creased in concentration as he follows his finger’s progress.  His eyes flick occasionally over to his laptop which is set up next to his leg, and he scrunches his nose in a way that suggests he’s irritated and confused by what he sees.  Even knocks on Isak’s doorframe, softly as he doesn’t want to startle him.  Isak looks up from the book in his lap, his face smoothes out into a wide grin and he scrambles to get off the bed and into Even’s arms.

“Hey, baby.  Did you miss me, then?”  Even says, laughing as he grapples with more than six feet worth of boy jumping all over him.

“So fucking much.  Thank god you’re here to save me from this shit.”  He waves his hands in the direction of the debris left on the bed.  “The textbook says something completely different to the online official webpage and I can’t figure out why.”

“I’d go with the textbook.  That’s what you’re tested on, right?”

Isak pulls back a little to look at Even with consternation, as if he can’t quite comprehend what he’s hearing.

“But what if it’s wrong, Even?  I can’t learn wrong science!”

He’s so passionate about it that Even bubbles up with laughter.  He can’t contain the affection he has for this boy with his vibrant eyes and passion for knowledge, but Isak frowns a little as he pulls back.

“You think that’s funny?”

“Oh, no.  No, baby, no.”  Even hastens to reassure Isak.  “It’s so fucking hot.”

“Hot?  Me talking about Science is hot?”

“You have no idea, do you?  Your eyes get this beautiful vibrancy in them, they light up.  Then your arms go and you talk so fast with your whole body.  And you care about it, and that’s the sexiest fucking thing.”

As Even speaks, his dick responds to the words in a predictable way.  By the time he’s finished he’s fully hard and Isak is gaping at him, his cheeks rosy but delight on his lips and in his eyes.  He sidles closer to Even, allowing himself to feel Even’s dick through his pants, and smirks in smug amusement when he notices just how hard Even is.

“I’ve been researching some other stuff, too,” he says, his voice suggestive.

Even drags his attention away from his dick enough to be able to say, “oh?” in a moderately calm voice.

“Mmmm,” Isak says.  “There’s some stuff I want to try.  If ... if you want to.”

Oh god, this boy is going to be the death of Even.  He’s standing there with beseeching eyes and an upturned mouth wondering if Even might possibly be interested in something sexual.  The faux innocence (or is it genuine uncertainty?  Even’s too worked up right now to really figure it out) is enough to drive Even’s already-heightened desire right up to screamingly I-need-sex-right-now-or-I-might-explode-with-need turned on.

“I have no idea what you want to try, but whatever it is ... yes.  Always yes,” Even says with a quirk of his brow and a grin.

“Dork.  Be serious.”

“I  _ am _ serious.  Whatever sex thing you’re interested in, I can guarantee I want to try it.”

Isak casts an amused look at his crotch and nods.  “I’m going to test that one day.  I’m sure if I look hard enough I’ll find something you find a turn off.”

“I’m pretty sure you won’t.”

“Is that a challenge?” Isak asks as he starts walking backwards towards the bed.  Even follows, as if drawn by a magnet.  “I’m the master of challenges,” Isak adds as he drops onto the bed and pulls Even down with him.

Finally their lips touch and Even sighs into the kiss.  He’s so worked up already that he can barely coordinate lips and tongues and bodies.  Isak appears to be faring no better, fumbling with his clothes as he also tries to get Even undressed and keep kissing him at the same time.  One click of teeth and muffled “ouch, fuck” too many and Even pulls back a bit, laughing and breathless.

“Baby, we need to slow down a little.  How about you tell me what it is you want.”

“Oh.”  Isak blushes, as he drops his t-shirt to the floor and turns to Even.  He picks up the laptop and flips to another tab.  “Here.”  He thrusts the laptop towards Even, who shuffles out of the jeans he’s got one leg snagged in and then slides into place beside Isak, leaning against the wall.

He looks at the page Isak’s on and his dick twitches in eager expectation.  The header at the top is hot as fuck, but that’s not what really catches Even’s attention.  Under it are a number of pictures and gifs where the guys are all doing one thing.  He looks over at Isak.

“You want to try fingering?”

Isak’s watching him, his eyes following Even’s every movement and tracking his expressions as if waiting for Even to react with disgust.  Even’s eyes are drawn back to the mesmerizing gifs.  He licks his lips.

“No,” Isak says.  “Well … yes.  I was actually just looking up stuff in general, but I found this page and it looks really … they seem to like that.”

“They certainly do,” Even says, dragging his eyes from the laptop again and over to Isak’s.  “Are you sure?”

“I’m so sure.”

Even leans over to kiss Isak, thoroughly.  His dick is aching now but he still needs to be certain this is what Isak really wants, that he’s really thought through what this means.

“Whoever is having that done probably needs to clean up a bit,” Even says now, testing the water, seeing how Isak responds to that.  He’s watching Isak closely, so he’ll pick up any hesitations.  There are none, just trust.

“I … uh.  I already did that,” Isak says, his cheeks coloring a little.

And damn just the thought of that turns Even on, and not just a little.  “That’s so sexy, baby.”

“I even got lube,” Isak says.  “Just in case.”

“God I love how thorough you are,” Even says before he grabs Isak’s face and kisses him again.

Soon they’re naked, their bodies heated even as the air around them cools as evening approaches.  Isak is lying back on the bed, his cock is rigid and Even is overwhelmed.  This is the first time they’ve lain here like this, so open to each other.  Always before the nakedness happened as they went; there was never a purposeful undressing like this.  He expected that Isak would be a little bashful, but he’s not.  He’s staring up at Even with wide eyes and bitten lips.  It’s all Even can do to stop himself from coming right then and there.  It’s been too long since he’s had his hands on Isak like this and he wants it to last, but is afraid he’s not going to make it long.  He stops for a long moment, to admire the way Isak looks like this.

Isak pushes one foot against Even’s thigh and licks his lips.  It’s enough to get Even moving.  He glances to the side, making sure the lube is nearby, before bending to take Isak’s cock in his mouth.  Isak groans and pushes his hips up.  His legs drop open as he does so, and Even slides his finger down to feel the crack of his ass.  The whole time he keeps his mouth on Isak’s cock, unwilling to give that up.  He teases, letting his fingers drift near to the spot Isak wants him in, and soon Isak’s moans are incomprehensible.

Even reaches to grab the lube with his other hand, but he can’t get the top open.  Isak lets out a breathy whimper as Even stops touching him, and removes his mouth in order to sit up and use both hands on the bottle.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he says as he finally manages to get it open and coat his fingers.

He’s unsure as he starts pushing the first finger inside Isak, not really certain what he’s supposed to do or how this is supposed to go.  Isak tenses briefly and Even panics, pulling his finger back out.

“No, stay,” Isak says.  “It’s fine.  Just different.”

“Okay,” Even breathes.  “You’ll tell me if it gets uncomfortable?”

Isak nods.  Even slides the finger back in, more confident now and wiggles it experimentally.  It feels strange, different to what he’s used to.  Tighter.  He moves his finger a little more and Isak’s breaths are coming faster now.  The sound sends fire racing through Even; it’s hot.  Incredibly hot and Even can hear his own breathing speeding up in response.  Even grits his teeth to keep himself under control; this is so much that he’s getting close already.  He pushes in further then pulls out, setting a rhythm that seems to work for Isak if the way his hand clenches and releases on Even’s thigh is any indication.  Heat licks at Even starting at that point and all rushing straight for his dick.  Feeling bold, Even pulls out entirely.  Isak whimpers again and Even lets out a breathy laugh.  He’s never going to get enough of that sound, of Isak being so far gone he doesn’t physically want to stop.

“Can I try another?” He asks, trying to temper the raw desire in his voice to something soft and fond.  It’s not difficult; Isak always inspires both feelings.

He glances up at Isak who’s panting now, his body moving unconsciously as he chases Even’s finger.  He locks gazes with Even, and the naked need in those eyes is enough to make Even’s dick twitch and his heart stutter.  Isak nods, keeping his eyes on Even’s.

Even slips back inside with two fingers this time; it’s more diffuclt now, there’s more resistance and at the same time Isak throws his head back and his eyes are closed.  His face is screwed up and his mouth is open.  It’s hard for Even to tell if it’s pleasure or discomfort.  He knows Isak promised to let him know if it got too much, but he needs to be  _ sure. _

“You okay?” Even asks.

Isak breathes out, slowly, then opens his eyes and stares straight at Even.  “Fuck yeah,” he says, a glorious smile lighting his face.  Even finds himself grinning in return, drowning in the heat that’s burning through him.

This time when he moves his fingers Isak bucks and lets out a “faen.”  Even rubs the spot he was touching again, experimentally, and Isak’s sounds get louder and more guttural; he’s throwing his head back again and his hands are clenched tight in the sheets now.  It’s exhilarating, seeing him like this.  Even’s own dick is aching for release, but there’s something so fascinating in watching Isak that Even doesn’t ever want this to stop.  He keeps up the pressure on that spot, marvelling at the things it does to Isak’s body.

It’s not long before Isak’s begging Even for something, neither of them sure what, but Even takes Isak’s cock in his mouth again while still moving his fingers.  He’s so desperate for something himself, that he needs this, needs the solid weight of Isak on his tongue again.  He moans as the taste of precum slides over his tongue.  The sudden change, or the vibrations from Even’s mouth, must spark something in Isak because almost instantly there’s something salty flooding Even’s mouth and Isak is panting, softs moans that rip out of him as he writhes on the bed.  Startled, Even swallows -- and there’s more of it than he expected -- then lets Isak drop from his mouth.  He’s never been more turned on than he is right now.  If he’d thought tasting Isak’s cock was good, the taste of his come is a million times more intense.  He’d happily do that forever if it always ends this way.  Once Isak is breathing more normally again, Even carefully removes his fingers and moves up the bed to kiss Isak.  Unfortunately, Isak won’t kiss him back.

He’s blushing and doesn’t want to look at Even.  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice mortified, but Even won’t accept that.  He takes Isak’s face in his hands and silently asks him to look at him.  Isak does, but still can’t hold Even’s gaze.

“What are you sorry for?”

The blush intensifies and Isak glares at him and squirms uncomfortably.  “You know what.”

“You mean the super hot coming in my mouth?”  Even lets all his desperate need bleed into his voice, almost moaning out the words.

“Hot?” Isak asks, this time letting his eyes meet Even’s.  There’s wary hope there.

Even smiles, trying to communicate with his eyes just how turned on he is, and allowing his rigid and aching dick to press into Isak’s thigh.  “Fucking hot.  I almost came in my pants, it was that good.”

Isak laughs, a nervous chuckle that’s much less boisterous than usual.  But it’s there.  Even grins at him.

“I’m serious.  I want to do it again, properly.”

Isak smiles, a smirk this time as he gets more comfortable and realizes Even wasn’t kidding.  “Okay,” he says.  “We can do that.”  He takes a deep breath in.  “We can do that,” he repeats, “but not right now; now it’s your turn.”

Even isn’t going to argue with that, not when he’s so desperate to have Isak’s hands on him, not when Isak’s removing his boxers and taking him into his mouth, and making Even’s already-leaking dick spasm a little.  Isak’s still unsure and lacking confidence, Even can tell, but he clearly enjoys what he’s doing, experimenting with his tongue in a way that causes Even to lose control almost immediately.  It’s only a very few bobs of Isak’s head before Even’s writhing and his balls are tightening in a telltale sign that he’s close.  He manages to hold off, but tugs on Isak’s hair.

“Baby?  I’m gonna … gonna come.”

Isak gives one last swirl of his tongue before he lets Even fall out of his mouth.  He looks up at him with a sly grin.  “That didn’t take much.”

“I told you; you were fucking hot and I was already close.”

Isak laughs as he takes Even in his hand and finally crawls up his body to kiss him through the orgasm that rips through him very shortly after, and leaving him shuddering in its wake.

Afterwards, they lay together.  Their bodies are pressed into each other and it’s so nice.  Even’s still keyed up, his energy levels are through the roof even now.  He figures that’s the effect of Isak being so damn sexy as he lies there, his leg in its customary position hooked over Even’s and his head resting on Even’s shoulder.

“I want to try to so much stuff,’ Isak says as if echoing Even’s thoughts.  “That was good.  So good I think I want to try it with your dick instead of fingers.  Some day, anyway.”

“Mmmm, whatever you want, baby,” Even says.  He lets Isak keep talking and adds in interested comments whenever he feels it’s needed.  But inside he’s panicking.  He wants it, so badly.  Wants to do all of that, have all of that with Isak.  But the closer he gets to having his dick inside Isak, the more worried he is that his beastly instincts will come out.  He isn’t ashamed of how sex is for him, not exactly.  But he’s terrified that he might tip over and be unable to control his instincts.  He’s terrified that one day he’s going to hurt Isak.  Isak’s not a Beauty; he’s not geared up for things to be rough and while that’s a really fantastically wonderful thing, Even isn’t used to it.  He’s petrified that when it gets right down to it, his instincts will drive him and it will all go wrong.

He needs to talk to Isak about it, Even knows.  Add that to the list of things they have to have a serious heart to heart about sometime soon.  But right now is not the time, not when Isak is already feeling a little unsure about what happened, even though Even found it so incredibly hot.  It’s not time to be bringing it up, but Even makes a mental note to do it soon.  Maybe in the next few days.  But for now he keeps listening to Isak, keeps encouraging him to talk about what he wants.  This is important, and he’s happy Isak is comfortable enough to open up to him in this way.

Even doesn’t get around to talking to Isak.  Too many things jumble into his life and he can’t concentrate on any one of them long enough to settle.  There’s time, he figures.  He doesn’t need to rush into any deep conversations, not when there’s life to live and joy to be had.  Even spends his afternoons in stilted conversation with his mother.  She’s still not forgiven him for breaking up with Sonja.  Even deciding to see Isak instead just made that whole issue worse.  She tries to talk to him, but inevitably it descends into recriminations, and Even’s always too scattered to be bothered listening to everything she has to say.  Even’s father is never home by the time Even leaves so their paths never cross and at least he doesn’t have to endure  _ his _ take on the matter.  

Even always heads to Isak’s apartment for dinner and to sleep.  He can’t keep his hands off Isak when they’re together and they have sex almost every day.  Maybe not as often as Even wants -- he wants it all the time, after all -- but certainly enough to satisfy the need.  It seems like they’re both insatiable, desperate for each other every time they’re together.  Even tries to remember what it was like when he first started seeing Sonja.  In his memory it wasn’t like this, but it’s so long ago now that he has only the barest, fuzziest memories of that time.  Not that it matters.  What matters is Isak right here right now with him, though Even’s still reluctant to go further than they already have.  It’s enough, though, and Isak seems satisfied to keep things at the same level as well.

There’s genuine happiness in everything he does, Even realizes.  The tension of the moments with his mother merely serves to highlight how great all other aspects of his life are going.  It’s so great, he should probably have seen the warning signs.  Nothing this amazing gets to stay.  Not in Even’s experience.

He pushes into his apartment one afternoon, throws his keys into the basket as usual and moves towards the kitchen.  He’s still bouncy, jittery with energy and it’s hard to stay still.  Even shouts a cheerful “halla” into the house in general as he walks.  There’s a bowl on the counter.  Bananas.  Even admires it for a few moments, struck by the bright yellow of the skins and the one dark brown spot in the middle of one.  He’s about to grab one from the bowl when he hears his mother’s voice.  It’s coming as if from a distance but it startles him and he snaps his head around towards her.  She stops dead as he moves, clearly taken aback.  It seems like she’s been poised trying to get his attention and is unsure what to do now that it’s worked.  He blinks at her. 

“Please don’t get upset, Even.”

The words are vaguely unsettling and Even frowns at her.   She’s on her tiptoes, out of her usual heels and she’s leaning forwards as if to catch Even, or possibly to prevent him from running away.  Even turns back to the bananas, taking one -- not the one with the brown, that one sends a shudder down his back for some reason.  He turns and leans casually against the counter.  One hand presses against the cool surface, and he enjoys the feeling beneath his fingers, letting them slide and run over the slightly rough edge.  

His mother clears her throat and Even is brought sharply back into focus.  She looks expectant and he’s not sure why.  She raises her brow and he remembers.  Oh.  Right.

“Why would I be upset?” 

“You must have noticed,” she says but doesn’t quite hold his eye as she says it.  She’s acting very strangely but Even barely notices.  Instead, he enjoys the banana.  There’s something really fascinating about them.  The way they look (like dicks haha, he has to tell Isak about this later).  The way they taste like sunshine itself but feel gritty and unpleasant against his tongue (so not like dicks at all).

Even remembers that he was having a conversation.

“Noticed what?” he asks finally.

“You’re … uh.  You’re not quite yourself at the moment.”

Even frowns at her again.  He has no idea what she’s talking about, and she’s carefully not getting to any sort of real point.  Her eyes flit to the doorway and Even’s own eyes widen.  His father is there today, looking small and diminished.  His eyes are surrounded by dark circles, and now that Even looks closer he can see that there are deep creases sitting beside his mother’s eyes that weren’t there last time he really looked at her.

“Have you been taking your medications?” his father asks now and Even’s heart freezes.  He’s suddenly right in the moment as a shock like ice cold water floods through him.  Shit.  He knows now what they’re implying and his mind flies back over the last few days.  Oh.  Maybe some of the things that have happened have been hints.  Maybe some of his jitters haven’t been strictly about Elias and the others.  Maybe the bad sleep patterns should have clued him in.

“I have, yes,” Even says, trying to stay calm.  It’s okay; it’s not that bad.  He’s not  _ that _ far gone, he can tell.  He has his senses and he’s not … not doing irrational things.  This is all  _ fine. _

“You’re manic, Even,” his mother says now.

“I’m not --” Even tries as he glances between the two of them.  “It’s not that bad, I promise.  I promise Mamma, Pappa.  It’s not like that.”  He knows he’s speaking fast, but that’s normal when he’s excited, and they should know that.  It’s not mania.  He’s really not there yet, and they’ve known him long enough that they should fucking know that by now.  Irritation seeps into his voice as he repeats, “I’m not manic.  Maybe a little heightened, that’s all.”

“Reckless things, irrational behavior,” his mother is saying now.  “I thought it was all Beast stuff, but it’s not is it?  It’s mania.”

Even squints at them in sudden suspicion.  His heart is thundering in his chest as he clicks to what they’re implying.  To be sure, though, he asks, “what are you talking about?”

“You.  Sonja.  That boy Isak.”  She spits out his name as if it’s poison and Even growls.  He knew it, knew they were going to ascribe everything to his mania.  But he’s controlling it, his meds are working.  It’s really not that bad and Even’s as clear sighted as he’s ever been about Isak.  That is to say, he’s in love and he doesn’t care that it’s so fast.  It’s epic, like the movies, and he’ll do anything to protect what they have.

“I can’t believe this,” Even says, shaking.  He’s through trying to keep the Beast in check.  He lets it out, allows the snap and snarl into his voice.  They threatened Isak and what he and Even have together; they deserve the Beast.  “Why are you blaming him?”

“Smoking weed,” she says, snarling in her turn.  “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that first day you were here with him.  You think we don’t know he’s the one making you forget yourself, forget what’s important in keeping you stable?”

“This is unbelievable,” Even growls again.  He’s close to shouting at her but he has enough self preservation to know that would be a very bad idea.  His thoughts may be whirling, he may be getting close to the edge, but one thing remains certain.  There’s one clear idea in the chaos of his mind.  Isak.  Isak and their incredible love.  Despite how very much Even wants to let the Beast truly run wild, he has enough insight to know that would threaten the relationship.  Everything is subordinate to preserving that.  Even wants to impress upon his parents just how epic his life is right now, speeding through the words, idea pouring in on top of idea.  “He’s the best thing that’s happened to me.  I’m going to marry him one day.  And we’re going to have the  _ best _ babies.  And a house, a nice one.  You’ll see when you see him again--”

He’s cut off by his father this time and it’s starting to irritate him the way they won’t let him finish, damn it.  “It’s mania, Even.  You know yourself there’s a heightened sex drive.  You  _ know _ this is what’s going on with this boy.  If you stop to think about it, you’ll see.  You should never have cut yourself off from your Beauty, Even.  I think we should call Sonja; she can help.”

Even shakes his head.  He may be in a heightened state (okay he  _ knows _ he is now that he’s thought about it) but he’s not having an episode, not a full one, and he’s really fucking mad that they think he’s become manic just because he dropped his Beauty.  That’s so gross and reductive and Even just wants to get away from them and their toxic ideas.  He needs to be somewhere other than here, anywhere else.  Anywhere that involves Isak anyway.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” he says pushing off the counter and heading for the door.  “I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?  It’s not safe for you to be on your own.”

“Anywhere.  Anywhere else,” he sing-songs cheerfully, before he frowns as the last part of the sentence registers.  “I won’t be on my own.  I’m going to Isak’s.”  Isak’s the very best.  Much better than them.   _ “He _ doesn’t accuse people he doesn’t know of shit that isn’t true.”

Now that he has an idea, Even starts moving.  He needs to get out of this place.  Now.

“Even!” his father’s voice is clear and firm and Even stops in his tracks for a moment, habit halting his feet even as his brain urges him to keep going.  “Even, you need help right now.  Not more of this … weird obsession.”

His father grabs his arm, but Even shakes it off viciously, snarling a little and baring his teeth as he spins and glares at his father.

“Fuck off.  You can’t keep me here; I’m too old.”

“While you live under this roof we have some say over what you do, and--”

“Then I won’t live under this roof anymore.”  Even shrugs.  “Easy.”  And it is.  He can move in with Isak.  Live in the Kollectiv.  It’s as easy a decision as Even’s ever made and he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before.

Delighted with himself, he gathers his jacket and keys as his parents share a strained, terrified glance.  Even can’t understand why they’re looking like that.  He’s fine, he’s rational and they’re just acting like the controlling assholes he’s always known they were.  No wonder they like Sonja; she’s just like them.  Control controlcontrolcontrol, like they always do.  He’s done here, and he’s not sitting like a good little puppy waiting for Sonja to come and deal with him.  Puppies.  Those are good.  He can get a puppy maybe, to live at the Kollectiv too.  Isak would like that.  Beautiful Isak.

“But we want to be able to see you, to help you.” His mother breaks into his thoughts again, and Even scowls.  Why can’t they just let him  _ go? _  Her tone is cajoling, desperate.  It sets Even’s teeth on edge.  He has to get out of this place before it stifles the very life out of him.  Isak can help with that.  They suck life, he gives life.  Even narrows his eyes.  They’re trying to control him again.

“Should have thought of that before, shouldn’t you?” he sneers.  At the way his father’s face blanches and his mother’s reddens with unshed tears, Even relents a little.  “I’ll be at Isak’s.  He scribbles an address and a phone number on a piece of paper and thrusts it into his father’s hand.  “There.  If you want to see me, you have to see him too.”

This is the best idea Even’s ever had.  He’ll move in with Isak, maybe they can even get their own place right away.  A tiny spot with a dog, and maybe a kitten.  Isak likes kittens, doesn’t he?  Even has to ask him, maybe.  But a dog anyway.  Puppies.  Then babies one day.  This is going to be the most epic thing.  Epicepicepic thing.

His line of thought is cut off as his mother tries again, “You’re not well, Even.  How can you expect this seventeen year old kid to help you?”

“If you want to see me,” he repeats, “you need to see me at Isak’s.  Isak’s place.  Anytime.  You’re welcome  _ anytime. _ ”  He’s sure he can convince Isak’s flatmates that this is a good idea.  The best idea.  Even has no qualms in promising it because no-one will disagree with how great it is.  Because he can live not-here.  Not-here is the best place.  “No me without him.”  Even grins and throws his arms wide in joy.  “I’m not living here anymore,” he says, feeling delighted.  He points at his parents cheerfully, though they don’t seem as excited as he is.  “You can’t fucking control what I do.”  Control, it’s always control.  They can’t control him at Isak’s.  Not at their epic new place.  This is a great idea.

It all seems very sensible to Even, and he’s not sure why they still look so scared.  He grins at them, his sudden anger dissipated under the joy he feels now that he has a plan.  Even rushes out the door and starts running.  No fucking trams right now; his epic idea can’t wait on the vagaries of public transport.  No, he’s running.  He’s going to get to Isak and he’s going to present him with this amazing concept.  They’ll live together and it’s going to be  _ spectacular _ .


	6. Chapter 6

Clatter.  Commotion.  Bright lights.  Noise.  

Too much fucking noise.  Even only has a vague memory of how he got here or why he decided to come, but here he is.  A place almost as familiar as his own.  Or it is his own now.  Maybe.  Epic life.  Epic love.  Epic house.

Someone is talking.  The voice is too loud and too bright for Even.  He feels like he’s been on a sugar high and is coming down, and his focus is skittery -- jumping from place to place.  It’s not a pleasant sensation.

“... but it’s very good of you to let him stay.  He was very worked up …”

People do get worked up.  A lot.  Too many things upset his parents.  They’re here talking to people about Even, and that bugs him.  Why do they get so upset?  Everything’s fine, here with Isak.

There’s movement and echoes around Even, and he’s finding it hard to focus.  He walks from pillar to post all around the room, unable to settle to any one spot.  His jittery energy is burning again and he’s surrounded by over-bright people saying over-bright things.  There’s something in their tones too.  Something tense and uncomfortable.  The Beast in him is attuned to nuance, and there’s heavy hostility hanging in the air all around him, bleeding into these voices.  So polite.  So savage.  Like a Beast.

“It’s best if he comes home now, though.”

Home.  Even snarls, a low guttural roar that grabs the attention of the room, everyone’s eyes snapping to him.  “It’s not fucking home,” he says.  “No me without him.”

He’s starting to feel trapped now.  Like people are closing in and trying to make him do things he doesn’t want to do.  All joy he had in his epic idea is gone, leaving the buzzing tension in its wake.  Even starts towards the door, anxiety lending fuel to his need to escape.   A soft hand is gentle on his arm, trying to stop him again, but Even pulls away, hissing.  Whoever belongs to the hand gasps in sharp reflex and Even feels himself cringing away from it.  All he wants is Isak.  Isak makes him feel better, always.

“Baby.  Hey, baby.  I’m here; it’s okay.”

Isak’s voice.  Isak.  Even stills, his movements slowing as he reacts to that voice, and turns towards it.  Isak’s hand is cool on his cheek and Even smiles as he leans into it.  He can smell the musk-and-shampoo scent that is Isak and his heart slows a little more.  He’s reminded of his epic idea.  If he has Isak he has peace.  Peace and Isak go together.  They can get puppies to go in their new home.  Or maybe some kittens.

“Hey,” he says, grinning at Isak.  “We should get a kitten, okay.  You like kittens, right?”

“Yeah, baby.  I really do.”

There’s so much affection in that voice that Even smiles.  He stares at Isak, drinking in all his beauty and his charm.  Even grins.  He feels so much better now.  He’s with Isak in his own space -- their own space -- and they can be free.  No controlling assholes around.  Even loses his focus again, fixated on how great this living arrangement is, how he can stay here forever with Isak and make this their own sanctuary.  It’s hard to concentrate on anything else, but at times flashes of the conversation around him manage to intrude.  Even frowns; he doesn’t want to care about any of that.  So many different voices saying so many different things.

“He should stay …”

“He’s not well ... he needs help...”

“... happier with Isak.  Let him stay …”

“... not going to leave him like this …”

“No me without him,” Even reiterates.  He’s looking at Isak now, focused on his face.  It’s flushed, a fine dusting of crimson on his cheeks.  He looks pale, though, and there are dark marks under his eyes.  Dark is bad.  Dark means he’s not good.  Dark side, dark mark, dark eyes.  Dark eyes usually mean Isak’s had no sleep.  Is he not sleeping again?  Even should fix that.  “Sleeps better with me,” he mutters.  “I’m staying.”

He’s smiling again.  Content.  Feels Isak’s hand caress his cheek, something tender in the motion.  Even meets Isak’s eyes and the affection he sees there is all encompassing.  Nothing else matters.  Just Isak and his eyes and his smile.  

“Fine.” His mother’s voice comes as if from a distance, but even while trying to ignore it and focus on Isak Even can tell it’s strained and anxious.  “Fine.  He stays, but we’re here every day too.  And you call if anything happens.”  She sounds resigned, unhappy.  Why doesn’t she want him here?  Here in his happy space with Isak. 

It’s all too hard.  Trying to focus on more than one thing is impossible and right now he’s not interested in anything that isn’t Isak.  Even lets it all fade away, focused only on Isak.  He loses himself in contemplation of where they go from here, of how beautiful Isak is.  He reiterates this to Isak over and over again, reveling in the gorgeous colour that sits high on his cheeks every single time.

It doesn’t register when Even’s parents leave or when the others retire to their rooms.  It only registers when Isak suggests they go to bed, and the idea is so incredible that Even is scrambling into the bedroom as quickly as he can get his legs to go.  Isak wants to sleep, but Even can’t.  He’s a ball of energy, ready to make their space the most gorgeous place anyone has ever seen.  Isak’s soft snuffles punctuate the air as Even grabs paper and begins to draw, pictures that will paper the walls with tales of their love.  Tales of Isak and his beauty.  Tales of perfection and joy.   
  


When Even next focuses, time seems to have shifted.  Even hasn’t slept, he knows that much.  He can see the aftermath of his creative energy.  There are pictures everywhere.  Drawings of Isak, of them both, of dicks.  So many fucking dicks.  Fuck.  What must they all think of him?  There’s sun streaming into the room from another direction, and the voices he hears from the room next to his are much less anxious, or maybe that’s just him.  He feels less like vibrating out of his skin and more centered.  Even breathes out a little, slowly.  He knows he slipped, he knows he’s done some reckless things, some stupid things, and shame floods through him.  What did he do?  What did he expose people (Isak, oh fuck, Isak) to?  What do people (Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.   _ Isak _ ) think now they know?  Why the fuck didn’t he tell people ( _ Isak.  _ Shit shit shit) when he had the chance?  He had perfect opportunities and he blew them, one by one.  He’s such a fuckup and no-one deserves to have to put up with him, and his hundreds of dick pictures.

Even stirs from his place leaning with his back against the wall on Isak’s bed, intending to gather the offending papers and burn them before anyone can see and be repulsed.  But before he can move, an arm snakes around his waist and pins him down.

“No,” a voice mumbles beside him.  “Stay.”

Isak.  Even looks down and what he sees makes his heart flip again.  He’s caught by beautiful curls, lit up from behind like an angel’s halo.  Lips that curve into a beautiful smile even as they fake a pout.  Eyes, wide open and boring holes right into his soul.  Even can’t even remember what it was he was going to do.  He could spend all day just staring at this boy beside him.

“You’re beautiful,” he says now.  “Like a painting, a masterpiece.  You should be in a museum.  Maybe we can go to a museum now; museums deserve you.”

Even doesn’t bother to voice the knowledge that he doesn’t deserve Isak, not the way museums do.  It’s so self evident it doesn’t need to be expressed.  He looks around and spots one of his pictures of Isak.  That one would be perfect in a museum.  He moves to get up again to get it, but the arm around him grips tighter.

“No.  Stay here.  I want you to stay.”

Even’s not sure what to say to that.  There’s so much love and affection in the words and the tone, and it burns through Even that he’s not worth this.  He’s a Beast, an aggressive fuck up and a burden on everyone.  Everything about Isak is beauty and light, and he doesn’t deserve to be stuck with an asshole like Even.  The problem is that Even is weak and he wants this, wants everything Isak has to offer.  But he knows he’s just going to fuck everything up, like he always does.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers now before he loses the will.  Before he just lets himself give in and take this joy that doesn’t belong to him.

“Mmmm,” Isak says, snuggling closer.  The action turns Even’s stomach inside out and makes his throat tight with the pain of it.  There’s so much trust in Isak’s body and in his actions, and it’s so misplaced.  “What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Isak hums, his lips vibrating where he lies against Even’s hip and the feeling sends shockwaves through Even.  He closes his eyes.  This feeling shouldn’t be his anymore.  He’s soaking up an experience which should be given to someone else, but he’s so weak he can’t bring himself to set Isak truly free.  So he stays here like an asshole, taking advantage of Isak’s good will.

“You didn’t need to tell me,” Isak says now, his voice still cosy with sleep.  “We agreed; we talk when it’s the right time.”

“I should still have told you, before …”

“It’s okay.  It’s really okay.”

“It’s really not,” Even snaps, his voice sharp as he tries to get Isak to see.  Even’s a fucking asshole, and he doesn’t deserve this compassion, this affectionate forgiveness.

Isak sits up, betrayed sadness in his eyes which makes Even recoil a little.  He’s so bad for Isak that he makes him look like _ that. _  Isak smiles softly, but it doesn’t hide the sadness that still sits underneath.  He reaches out to Even’s face, and Even lets him touch it because he’s too much of an asshole to do the right thing.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove,” Isak says, after taking a deep breath, “but it’s not something you owe to anyone.  Not even me.”

And fuck.  Why does Isak have to be so goddam nice?  Tears well in Even’s eyes and his throat is clogged with them now.  He’s going to have to leave Isak alone here because anything else is unthinkable.  Anything else will just ruin him.  Even’s dad was right about that.  Everything Even touches turns to shit, and he can’t let that happen to beautiful, bright Isak.

But then Isak settles back down against him, he presses the softest kiss to Even’s lips and Even can’t do it, can’t bring himself to push away from this boy.  This person who provides light wherever he goes is offering that light to Even and Even is too weak to resist it.

The days pass, but Even doesn’t really know when each one finishes and the next one starts.  It’s a mess, jumbled together and only distinguishable by ‘Isak’s here’ and ‘Isak’s not-here’.  Even’s parents come and go.  He doesn’t really care about them.  The more he thinks, the more he slides into an alarming state where he doesn’t much care about anything at all.  Isak is often there, with his warmth and his beauty and his smiles and his big sad eyes.  And they are sad.  All the time now.  Even’s not sure why, but he has a good idea that it must be him.  The only times Isak’s ever looked sad since Even met him were the times Even’s fucked up his life.  It’s not a leap to think that’s the case now.  It all reinforces the knowledge that Even should just push past all this and do the unselfish thing, the good thing.  He should let Isak go.

Even sleeps.  A lot.  Maybe too much.  He knows his therapist would say it’s too much.  But it’s only when sleeping that Even can shut out the words that fling themselves around in his brain.  The ones everyone has ever said to him about how he’ll be bad for Isak.  His mother always comes along first, hammering her drum.   _ You’re a Beast, Even.  It’s in your nature.   _ Of course it always comes back to nature.  His nature; his dirty, diseased, fucked up nature that taints everything it touches.  Then his father follows up with a punch to the gut.   _ If you won’t do it for yourself, think of him.   _ But Even  _ is _ thinking of Isak.  All the time.  He wishes he could stop because if he stops thinking about Isak then maybe he can have the strength to do what everyone says will be best for him.   _ Did it make you feel cool to fool me?   _ Fuck fuck fuck.  Now Isak’s getting in on it.  His voice is the worst.  The memory of that pain sears Even, burns his resolve.  At the same time that Even knows he has to let Isak be free, he’s also yearning for the peace and comfort that being in his arms brings.  It’s selfish and wrong and Even hates himself for it, hates the way the thought of Isak uncurls a tiny piece of the knot that clenches around his heart.

He hears voices from the next room. He’s apathetic, can’t move, fatigue pressing bricks into his bones and weighing him down.  He can’t summon enough energy to move his limbs, so he lies there numbly, allowing the voices to wash over him.  He hears his name and suddenly the tone of the voices changes.  It had been a pleasant buzz, humming in the background, a counterpoint to his apathy.  Now, it’s angry and aggressive, the tone one of condemnation and recrimination.

“You have to understand, Isak,” his mother is saying, “this isn’t good for either of you.”

“It’s fine,” Isak says.  His tone is angry but resigned, like he’s sick of this conversation.  Guiltily, Even wonders how often they’ve had it.  How often has he forced Isak into this situation with Even’s parents with no support or backup?

“It’s not though,” she says, her voice aggressive.  “You look terrible.  I bet you haven’t been sleeping.”

Isak mumbles something, and she laughs.  There’s no humor in it, though.  She sounds jubilant, like she’s won some battle.

“And it’s not like you’ve been great for him, either,” she adds now.  “He’s so obsessed it’s unhealthy.”

“It’s not.”  Isak’s voice appears firm, but Even can hear the waver in it, the fear and worry, and sharp bitterness swamps him again.  This is all his fault.  “He settles when I’m here,” Isak continues.  “It’s good.”

Even’s mother grunts.  “All this … this stuff.  This episode, it’s …” she sighs, and her voice when she continues is softer, kinder.  But the words sting and Even’s sure they must be killing Isak.  “Look, Isak.  I don’t mean to say you’ve done any of this on purpose.  But you must see.  He stopped seeing Sonja because of you.  He lost control because of that.  It’s …”

“That’s enough.”  A new voice.  Angry, protective.  “You don’t come into my house and talk to my flatmates like that.”

“I’m just trying to help him see --”

“No,” the voice says.  “You’re upsetting him when he doesn’t need to be.  This, all of this … it’s not your decision.”

“Eskild,” Isak’s voice again now.  He sounds defeated.  Even’s heart drops. Isak should never feel like that.  He’s brightness and light and everything good in the world.  There should be no place for him to be that unhappy.  “It’s okay.  She’s right.”

“Thank you, Isak,” his mother says.  “I’ll leave him here for now, but you must see he will be better at home with us.”

“No, thank you,” Eskild says now.  “We’ll talk about this with Even when  _ he _ wants to.  It’s up to him.”

It’s too much and Even feel tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, but his arms weigh too much still to be bothered wiping them.  They spill over and drip down onto the pillow below him.  Isak’s unhappy, Even’s mother is unhappy, Eskild is angry and it’s all Even’s fault.  He really is destroying everything.  Isak deserves better than this, and Even needs to give it to him.  For now, though, he just wants to blank it all out.  Sleep.  Forget about it all.

So he sleeps, trying to block it all out.  It never helps.  It all returns whenever he wakes.  The words, the pain, the aching joy when Isak is there, the gaping void when he isn’t.  The guilt.  The stress, the deserved criticisms, sharper now that Isak agrees with Even’s mother that he’s fucked everything up. ( _ Grow up and face things like a fucking man _ …  _ you knew, and you still led him on … I care a shitload that you didn’t trust me with this _ …).  They all batter at him over and over, sometimes on a loop, sometimes mocking him with new memories just when he thinks he’s managed to get through them all ( _ It’s not just your life you’re playing with here … you’re leading that poor boy on … you know this can’t work … I know this is all a fucking laugh to you). _  Over and over and over again.  A litany of his fuckups, a litany of his failures.  Everything that condemns who he is and what he has become.  A reminder, if he needs one, of just how wrong he is for Isak and just how shitty he is for imposing his own needs over Isak’s  ( _ It’ll be your fault when that boy has his heart broken because you can’t control yourself … you’re playing a dangerous game.) _

Sleep is Even’s only relief, but it’s a ragged one, plagued with dreams and memories.  He’s never going to be good for Isak and he shouldn’t try.  In his dreams he’s faced with the knowledge that he has nothing to offer Isak.  That he takes and takes and takes and never once gives him anything back.  Just like Sonja; he used her for her Beauty abilities and now he’s using Isak too.  He’s fucked up and useless and he needs to get away, get out of here, leave Isak alone.

Heavy footsteps clomp to the door of the room, then they become exaggerated as whoever it is carefully walks slowly into the space.  The steps are still loud and echo in the silence.  Bright light suddenly glares from all corners as the curtain is pulled back.  There’s a tsking noise and someone mutters to himself as the light disappears briefly.  Then the glare returns and Even glances to the side to see Eskild tying the orange rug covering the window to the side with a dressing gown cord.

“Oh, hey.  Halla,” he says as he spots Even looking at him.  “This room is so gross.”  He wrinkles his nose as he looks around.  “I’m going to make it pretty for you.”

He looks at Even expectantly as if waiting for a response.  Unwilling to speak, Even grunts.  It’s apparently enough to satisfy Eskild as he then grins and starts moving around the room.

“Normally, I’d make Baby Gay do this himself, but he’s been a bit preoccupied lately.  You know?”  

Eskild looks at Even again.  Even gives the slightest shake of his head.  It’s all he can manage since his head weighs too much.  

“Well, yes, you do.  If he’s not at school, he’s here with you.  It’s very cute, you know.  But maybe not good.”  

Eskild holds a pair of jeans at arm’s length and walks them over to a laundry basket he’s placed by the door.  

“He’s a very nice boy, my baby gay.” He looks suddenly horrified, and spins to look beseechingly at Even.  “Don’t tell him I said that.  He wouldn’t like to know I’ve spotted him being so sweet.”

Despite himself, Even feels a brief lifting of his spirits.  Eskild really is a Godmother, so protective and proud of his protege.  And he’s right; Isak is a very nice boy even if he tries to deny it at times.  

“He’s too good for me,” he manages to croak out with a voice disused for days.

“Oh.  You’re speaking now?  That’s so nice.  I should tell Isak.  Or maybe not.  Maybe I’ll let him see for himself.”  Eskild stops suddenly, and squints at Even as if just now realizing what he said.  “He is very good, yes, but not too good.”

“Too good for  _ me,” _ Even says again, trying to make Eskild see the essential point.

Eskild tsks again and comes to perch on the bed.  It dips under his weight and Even rolls slightly into him.  He grumbles a little but doesn’t bother moving back.  

Eskild pats Even’s arm and says, “he wouldn’t like me telling you this, but he used to be a very grumpy boy.  Not nice at all.  Very messy, very sarcastic.”  He pauses for a moment, thinking.  “Okay he’s still sarcastic, but now he’s nice too.”  He looks down at Even.  “Do you know what made him nice?”  

Once again Even shakes his head.  

“You.  You made him into a nice boy, a boy who sleeps.  A boy who laughs.  And you shouldn’t forget that.”

Even feels tears pricking at his eyes again.  He wishes he could believe Eskild, but it’s too hard.  The voices in his head are too insistent, telling him just how bad he is for Isak.  Isak even agrees.   _ She’s right; _ the words echo in Even’s head every time he thinks he might be able to let himself believe that Isak might want him to stay around.  Even if he does want it, Isak shouldn’t have to deal with Even and all the shit that comes along with him.  So he shakes his head now and Eskild hums with irritation.

“I need to sleep,” Even says, dismissing Eskild.  He turns over so he can’t be seen and lets the tears fall.  He keeps as silent as he can, letting the tears slide along his nose and soak into the pillow.  

“Oh.  Okay,” Eskild says.  Even can feel the bed tilt again as he stands up and sighs.  “I’ll … uh.  I’ll go make some food.  For you.  For when you wake up.  Okay.  Good.”

Even listens as the footsteps get heavier and fade away into the rest of the sounds of the house.  He lets his eyes close and sleep pull him into the abyss again.

When Even opens his eyes again it’s darker.  The curtain is back over the window and there’s a solid weight at his back.  It feels good.  Even stirs a little.  A tired voice behind him mutters something and an arm slips over his waist.  There’s hot breath on the back of his neck, and Isak’s scent floods the air.  Even closes his eyes briefly in pained denial.  He needs to stop this, stop Isak from losing himself like this.  Eskild’s words weigh heavy on his chest ( _ maybe not good … not good … not good _ ), and Even knows he has to do it now.  He has slightly more energy than he’s had for a few days, so he uses it.

He carefully slides his body out from under Isak’s arm and scoots to the side of the bed.  From there it’s a struggle, but he sits up.  His head is still stuffed full of bricks, but he manages to get it lifted and props it up on his hands as his elbows rest on his knees.  Just this small amount of movement is tiring and Even has to rest before getting up properly.  He chances a glance behind him and his heart stops for a moment as he sees Isak’s eyes, wide and curious, on him.

“Where are you going?” Isak asks.  His voice is filled with sleep, but there’s a smile and a bright happiness in his expression.  The sadness seems to have gone, though there’s still a shadow of it in the smudges that sit under his eyes.

“I … uh.  I’m a bit hungry,” Even says, trying to cover up the real reason he’s moving.  He has to leave Isak, but not at the expense of hurting him.  Not when he’s looking like that; Even doesn’t have the heart.

As he says it, he realizes it’s true anyway.  There’s an ache sitting in his belly and Even realizes it’s the first time he’s wanted food in a long while.  His stomach rumbles in appreciation of the words.  Isak smiles.

“I’ll make something,” he says.  “What do you want?”

He scrambles out of bed as he’s speaking and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.  Even finds himself fixated on Isak’s abs, on the way they clench and move as he dresses himself.  It’s just so  _ pretty, _ and Even hates himself a little more for being so weak that he can’t pull his eyes away.  To get past his fluster, Even focuses on food.

“Soup?” he says now.  “Maybe?  I don’t … whatever’s easiest.”

Even shrugs, unsure what he wants and desperate not to make things any harder for Isak than they already are.  Isak beams at him, though, a vibrant grin that transforms his entire face.  Even is so weak in the wake of that grin he can’t do anything other than stare in helpless admiration.  Isak takes his face in his hands and gently tilts it so Even’s looking into his eyes.

“Hey.  Hey, Even.  It’s okay.  I’m glad you feel like being up right now.  I’m happy to make soup if that’s what you want.”

The cautious joy in Isak’s voice drives a shard of ice right into Even’s heart.  He doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s not better yet.  Not really.  Instead he smiles, allowing himself this feeling for a few precious seconds.  Isak leans in to kiss him, soft and gentle, and caresses his cheek with his thumbs.  It sparks something in Even, and he feels the contented, settled feeling Isak always inspires.  It’s not fair to Isak to use him this way, but Even closes his eyes, drinking it in.  He feels stronger just from being here like this and he’s too selfish to tear himself away the way he should.

Isak lets his hands drop from Even’s face, then takes his hand and draws him out to the living area.  They pause briefly in the doorway to the living room as Isak takes in the surroundings and decides where best to lead Even.  Even’s feet feel like lead and his steps are slow and unsure, so he makes the decision for himself, plopping down onto the nearest couch.  Isak chuckles softly, pulls a blanket over him, presses a kiss to his forehead then leaves Even alone.

The TV is on and Even finds himself drawn in by it.  The program is one of those dancing competitions and it takes no energy at all to let it wash over him.  One song finishes and another competitor takes the stage.  Soon, Even is immersed in following the dances and the scores.  It takes no effort and some of them are charming.  He startles a little sometime later when Isak sits down next to him with a bowl and a spoon.

“Here,” he says.  “Can you sit up?  This isn’t the easiest to eat when you’re lying down.”

Even can feel the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile.  There’s so much happy affection in that voice that he can’t help but respond.

“But I look good covered in soup,” he says.  It’s a weak attempt at a joke, but it makes Isak roll his eyes with a pleased look on his face.

Isak laughs.  “Not  _ that _ good, baby.  Now sit up please.”

Even does so, and Isak carefully sits the soup on a small table next to the couch.  It’s steaming and it smells really fucking good.  Even can’t remember the last time he had food voluntarily or enjoyed it when he did, but right now that soup is calling to him.

“Thank you,” he says, sincerely.  

Isak lays one hand on his leg then pushes up and moves away.  As Even picks up the spoon he hears Isak mumbling in the background and finally takes in his surroundings.  Eskild is sitting on the other side of the room, looking over at Even with a fond look on his face.  He has Isak’s hand in one of his own and is whispering something to him.  Whatever it is makes Isak’s face light up and he glances back over his shoulder at Even, nodding.

The doorbell buzzes, an insistent noise that draws Even’s attention.  Eskild breaks off talking to Isak and goes to the door to let whoever it is in.  Isak follows, though Eskild pushes him back as he approaches.  Isak frowns, but Eskild shushes him playfully but forcefully with his hands as he opens the door.  It’s clear they’ve had this argument before.

“Oh, it’s you,” Eskild says as he steps back to let Even’s parents into the room.  His voice is cold and unwelcoming and Even flinches.  What has been going on for this to be the situation between them all?

Even’s mother spots him first and rushes over to the couch he’s on.  “Oh, Even.  Honey.  You’re up!  That’s so great.”

He looks up at her with minimal interest, then goes back to spooning in the soup.  It’s delicious, and the care Isak took over it is so clear in every spoonful.  Even starts to eat it with more gusto, ignoring his mother’s fussing.

“Oh, Eskild.  You’re doing such a good job of looking after Even,” his mother gushes now as she sits down by him.  Her hand is rubbing up and down on his arm, the feeling slightly unpleasant as Even tries to eat.  His father hovers behind the couch and Even wishes he would just sit down.  Their tension is making his own shoulders tense up.

“Moi?  Oh no.  It’s all Isak.  He’s quite the care-giver when he wants to be.”  Eskild’s voice is still fierce, and suddenly Even is reminded of the conversation he overheard the other day.  It seems there’s tension here because Eskild is in full Godmother mode over Isak.  It’s really lovely and makes Even feel very affectionately towards the other man.

“Oh,” Even’s father says awkwardly.  “Oh, well.  That’s … that’s very nice of you, Isak.”

“Yes.  Very nice,” Even’s mother says.  She’s clearly still unhappy about the arrangement and it shows in the lines of her body and the controlled tone of her voice.

Isak looks uncomfortable in the situation, and Even can feel the waves of stress rolling off him.  Adrenalin surges through Even and all his protective Beast instincts kick in.  Everything he’s told himself about the reasons why he should stay away from Isak evaporate in the face of his obvious distress.  He holds his hand out to Isak now.

“Hey,” he says.  “This is great soup.  Thank you.”

Isak looks a little wary as he makes his way to Even, but the sigh he lets out when Even pulls him into the side not occupied by his mother is relieved.  He snuggles in, wrapping his arm around Even and tucking his head onto his shoulder.  It gives Even a deep sense of wellbeing to have Isak here like this.  Even glares at his mother and shakes her hand off.  It had still been rubbing irritating circles on his other arm and Even can’t stand it anymore.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” he asks her.

“What?”

She’s puzzled.  Her eyes are on him, and her head tilted as if she’s trying to figure him out like a complex math problem that’s not computing properly for her.

“He’s good for me,” Even says, horrified to hear the wobble in his voice, disused for so long and still not up to lengthy conversations.  He perseveres, though, because this is important.  “This is all good for me.  It’s good here.”

“We know, Even, we just --”

He cuts her off with an incredulous laugh.  “Obviously you don’t know, though.  You sit here and act like he’s nothing, when he’s actually  _ everything.” _

“Listen to yourself, Even.  This is obsession and it’s not healthy.  I thought you’d get over it after the mania disappeared but you’re as delusional as ever.”

Hot anger starts to boil in Even, terrifying him because it’s the most emotion he’s felt in so many days that he’s not used to the way it feels anymore.  It takes all his tiny reservoir of energy just to tamp it down, and he doesn’t have the ability to tell her how much bullshit she’s talking. So he’s profoundly grateful when Eskild speaks up.

“Maybe it’s not delusion, then.  Did you think about that?”  Even could kiss him, thankful that he’s saying the things Even wishes he himself could.  “I admit, when I first met Even I thought ‘this will never work, this funny not-archetype thing they have going on’ but I watch them and they’re good.”  

This all takes Even by surprise.  Eskild’s words to him in the bedroom didn’t exactly suggest he felt this way, but Eskild is grinning at them fondly and so Even assumes this is the truth.  There’s certainly no wave of guilt coming off him, the way it usually does if someone is trying to lie.  Maybe … maybe that stuff he said just before leaving that day was true.  Maybe he doesn’t think Even isn’t good for Isak after all.  The small flame of hope pierces through Even and he smiles, a small soft twist of his lips that feels good after so long.

“Isak is very supportive,” Eskild continues.   “He cooks and he cleans and he listens and he hugs.  He’s always there and he never complains.  And your Even.  He’s  _ so _ good.  I see the way he feels, I see how sad he is and yet he’s so kind all the time.  He looks out for Isak, too.  He does that even when he’s like this.”  Eskild waves his hand at Even, taking in his dishevelled appearance and shaking hands because now that the adrenalin has worn off, Even is exhausted and feels his body starting to weigh him down again.  “You should give this a chance, archetype or not.  That’s your son and  _ this _ is what he needs right now.”

Eskild sits back having delivered his small lecture and Even looks at his mother, who is gaping at him.  Isak is shivering beside him, and Even is almost certain he can feel tears on his shirt.  He drags his eyes away from his mother’s, gathers Isak in tighter and presses a kiss to his hair, whispering whatever nonsense he can think of to make him feel better.  Slowly, Isak relaxes and his grip on Even’s shirt eases off.  Even looks up to see his father looking at them contemplatively.  His mother looks like she’s going to argue, but his dad pulls her up and takes her to the kitchen.

They can hear the mutters of a conversation from here, the voices raising and lowering as they go through whatever discussion they’re having.  Eskild gets up to sneak closer to the door to try to hear what they’re saying, but Isak shakes his head.

“No, Eskild.  You can’t.  That’s private.”

Scowling, Eskild comes back to the other couch and plops himself down.  Isak reaches out to clasp his hand.

“Thanks, Eskild.”

“You’re so welcome, Baby Gay.”

Isak snarls and Eskild laughs.  It all makes Even’s heart ache with how good these two are together.  He wishes he could stay here forever.  But he can’t, no matter how great an idea it seemed a few days ago.  It’s not fair to impose himself onto this group who were not prepared for it and hadn’t agreed to it.  But right now, Even doesn’t have the energy to have that discussion.  He just wants to take some time together with Isak.

“Baby?”

Isak looks up, his face suddenly lit up and Even realizes it’s the first time he’s called Isak that since he arrived here.  He feels all the weight of that particular omission and the reasons for it, but he can’t bring himself to wipe that look off Isak’s face right now, so he smiles.

“I’m tired.  I want to go back to bed.”

“Okay.”  

Isak nods and stands up.  He reaches a hand out to help Even up, then steadies him when Even’s legs wobble under him and he almost falls back onto the couch.  He picks the blanket up where it fell and wraps it around Even’s shoulders, making sure it won’t drag on the ground.  Rather than force his help on Even, Isak then holds his hand out.  Even takes it in his own, links their fingers together and squeezes his thanks.  He starts to walk, knowing Isak will be there if he’s needed but not pushing if he’s not.  The few short steps to the bedroom door wipe Even out and he stops to take a breath and gear himself up to get the rest of the way to the bed.  His legs still feel like lead and the distance seems insurmountable.  He leans on Isak, who wraps his arm around Even’s shoulders and holds him close for a moment.

Even takes one look behind him to see how far he’s progressed and is startled to see his parents in the doorway to the living room, looking over at them with identical looks on their faces.  Their eyes are locked onto the linked hands of the two boys and Even flushes.  He tilts his chin up in defiance but he’s greeted by a small smile from his father and an even smaller nod from his mother.  She’s not comfortable with any of this, Even can tell, but there’s a thawing there, a sense of  _ well, if you must. _  It’s enough to settle some of the fear raging inside Even.  He looks at Isak again, waiting patiently beside him, and then forces his feet to take him the rest of the way to the bed.

It gets better.  Not all at once, but it does.  Some days Even is still curled up in bed, limbs heavy and aching and a heart filled with hatred for his own weakness and his Beast side, and for the way he can’t let Isak go.  Other days, he can get up and enjoy small moments with Isak or his flatmates.  He can even enjoy spending time with his parents.  They’ve relaxed a little more now, and there’s not so much pressure for Even to come home.  The words they use when talking to Isak are less stilted and jarring.  Those days, Even feels loved and like he can see a way out.  But they’re never linear.  He’ll have two or three bad ones and then a good one.  Or a few good ones and he thinks ‘yes I’ve finally done it’ but then before he knows it he’s back in the safe comfort of the bed, covers over his head and tears overcoming him for no discernible reason.  

He hates himself sometimes, hates the way his brain works.  But Isak is always there and even during those harder days, Isak’s presence lightens things a little.  Never enough to say ‘yes I’m done now, that’s over’ but enough to let Even know he’s not alone.  He’ll press kisses to Even’s head on the bad days, pull blankets over him, cuddle him, warm him, hold him if he cries.  And on the good days he’ll laugh at Even, make jokes at his expense, use his sarcastic wit to poke holes in Even’s comments.  He’ll kiss Even breathless, holding his face and murmuring nonsense endearments to make him laugh.  

Over time, there are more good days than bad and even on the bad days, Even’s not so desperate to be in bed under as many blankets as he can get.  He’s happier to be sitting on a couch in the living room or even going outside with Isak.  

“You want to go get kebab?” Isak asks one day, his eyes free now of even the shadow of the sadness that had overtaken him in those first few days.  Today is one of the in betweeners.  Even doesn’t feel happy or anything close to it, he can feel dark thoughts circling, his brain is insisting Isak would be better off without him.  But he can tell he’s not in that situation, that his brain is just being an asshole.  The words don’t impress him with an absolute unshakeable truth.  Today, he knows they’re lying to him.  

“Kebab?” he asks now.  “Why kebab?”

“I haven’t had any in a long time and I just wanted some.  And I thought you might like to come too,” Isak says.  He smiles at Even, reaching over to touch his face and trace the lines of his lips.  “No big deal if you don’t want to, though.  It’s chill to go by myself.”

Even loves him.  It’s in this moment that it hits him, a sudden shock of knowledge.  It’s not like the manic ideas of grandiose love.  It’s small and soft and so real and it all came clear in that one short phrase.   _ It’s chill to go by myself. _  No pressure, no subtle demand he do things a certain way, no judgement if he doesn’t live up to certain expectations.  Just … chill.  Matter of fact.  Of course, he can’t tell Isak about this.  Not yet, and maybe not at all.  Isak deserves more than a ruined shell of a Beast with terrible coping issues.  But even so, Even treasures the knowledge.  Whatever happens, he gets to have this even if for just a short time.  He gets to love Isak Valtersen for now and that’s a fucking amazing thought.

Isak’s looking at him expectantly, his eyes big and a slight flush on his cheeks.  Even laughs, letting all his joy bubble out in that one tiny gesture.  It’s a small sound in the large room, but Isak’s face mellows when he hears it.  Even knows it’s a sound he doesn’t get to hear often these days and the thought sobers him

“That’d be chill,” Even says now.  “Kebab is great.”

So they walk.  There’s no linking of hands, no subtle brushing of fingers together, no longing gazes or unsubtle smiles, and yet Even feels Isak’s presence in every atom of his body.  It’s like Isak is part of him now, taking up residence inside without permission.  Not that Even would have denied him that residence; Isak is like breathing and flying all at once and Even is completely head over heels in love.  He studies Isak now, taking it all in now that he knows.  He’s walking with his head down a little against the glare of the sun, and his hands shoved in his pockets.  His hair is lit up golden in the rays and he looks angelic.  Beautiful.  Even laughs a little and Isak squints at him, trying to see him through the sun streaming in his eyes.

“You need to buy sunglasses,” Even says to try to lessen the impact of his newfound thoughts on his equilibrium.

Isak glares at him and shakes his head.  “And look like a pretentious asshole?  No thanks.”

“So you’d rather look like a loser who can’t keep his eyes open?”

“Absolutely,” Isak says now with a small laugh of his own.  “Anything to avoid being pretentious.”

“That’s kind of pretentious of its own accord,” Even says.

“Shut up,” Isak says, pushing Even a little and making him stumble because he’s actually laughing too hard to keep himself upright.  Isak grins and looks at him so fondly that Even can’t breathe.  “I like seeing you laugh,” Isak says and Even’s heart falls right out of his chest and into Isak’s hands.  

“I like seeing you laugh, too,” Even says.

He’s feeling comfortable, happy now that he’s out here in the sun.  It was a good idea.  The dark thoughts have retreated and Even is allowing himself just to enjoy this moment with Isak.  There’s a certain peace in being outside with someone you love with no pressure and no need to be any particular way.  Where just being is all that matters.

And then, just because it’s a fucking asshole, the universe decides to shatter that peace.

“Even?” someone says and Even knows that voice.  He hasn’t heard it for almost a year but it was once as familiar as his own.  He closes his eyes as a quiet panic rushes over him.

“Mikael?” he asks, desperately hoping he’s wrong.

When Even opens his eyes again it’s to a tableaux that’s even worse than he expected.  Mikael is indeed standing in front of him, his hand on the door of the kebab shop he’s exiting and a stunned expression on his face.  Yousef is behind him with the same sad look he wore last time Even saw him, and Isak is off to the side with wide eyes and a slight frown as he takes in the scene before him.  Fuck.  This is some sort of cosmic joke where the universe thinks it's hilarious toi keep putting Even in exactly the same situation with the same group of people as if it expects things to go any differently.  Mikael grins.

“Hey, man.  The guys said they saw you.  Uh … how’s … how are you?”

“I’m good,” Even says, through a throat that’s clogged with feelings and stresses he didn’t think he’d have to face for a while.  This hasn’t got any easier.  If Yousef was part of the  _ thing, _ then Mikael is even more central to it and even more of a problem for Even’s wellbeing.  “What about you?”

Mikael looks him over once, a long considering look that takes in everything.  Even feels immediately self conscious of his thin frame and the way his clothes fall off him, of the bags that probably still sit under his eyes and the slump of his shoulders.  He sees the concern in Mikael’s eyes and grimaces.  He can’t even get a fucking kebab without someone assessing his life’s choices.  It’s not like Even wanted to be unwell.  He huffs, bringing Mikael’s focus back to the conversation.

Mikael shoves his hands in his pockets, stepping out and letting the shop’s door close behind him and Yousef as he does so.  “I’m good,” he says.  “Got a job, thinking of studying next year maybe.”

“That’s great,” Even says as his throat closes once more.  He’s really pleased his old friend is doing so well, but it slams home all the ways in which Even hasn’t done so well himself.  Bright flashes of memory stampede across his mind as he watches Mikael.  Distantly, Even’s aware of Yousef moving to stand by Isak and whisper something to him, but he’s not paying attention right now.  All he can do is remember helplessly the way his friendship with Mikael imploded so spectacularly that fateful weekend.  The way Even ruined everything with one misplaced action and the explosive episode which followed.  Even quickly pulls his thoughts away; he's not ready to confront that particular event yet.  Not even if the universe keeps trying to force him into it, the fucking asshole.

Mikael’s smiling face is imprinted on his mind and he shakes it away.  Even destroyed all that when he did what he did.  There’s no going back now, and he shouldn’t even try.

“Well, I’m pleased you’re all good.  It was nice to see you again Mik …” Even stops himself from the nickname with difficulty, adding, “ael.  Yousef.”  Even nods, then puts his own hand out to push open the door and escape into the safety the warm shop affords.  A hand on his arm stops his movement.

“We miss you, man.  I miss you.  You should … should come by some day.  Hang out.”

Even looks into Mikael’s eyes and sees that he’s sincere, but the idea scares him.  After the way they left things, he can’t just go back to the way things were, and the idea of whatever talk they have to have to make that happen is terrifying.  He shakes his head.

“I can’t,” he says.  “I’m not … I’m sorry.  I just can’t.”

Yousef mutters something to Mikael and they both turn equally unhappy gazes on Even.  Isak steps up beside him, ostensibly to open the door that Even’s left just slightly ajar, but in actuality to press his fingers against Even’s arm.  It’s comforting, giving Even something to cling to as his thoughts whirl into turmoil.

“Well, if you change your mind you know where we are.”  Yousef’s voice is kind.  There’s none of the strain Even felt last time they met and he smiles briefly, nodding his understanding.

“We’re having a party in a couple of weeks,” Mikael says.  “You’d be welcome.”  He looks between Even and Isak and smiles.   _ “Both _ of you would be welcome.  Always.  No matter what.”

Even’s breath catches in his throat again.  Is Mikael saying what Even thinks he is?  He can’t be sure.  It’s been too long and he’s lost the knack of knowing exactly what Mikael’s thinking in any given moment.  He glances at Yousef and sees the same considering glance he gave when they were last together, and Even realizes what’s going on.  Yousef has worked it out and of course Mikael knows what it all means.  He was there, after all, that day.  The day it all went so fucking wrong.  But there’s no judgement on either face and Even lets out his breath on a long exhale.

“I’ll … uh.  We’ll keep it in mind.”  He looks at the other guys and smiles, genuinely.  “Thanks.”

They nod in their turn and then hurry off, the steam still rising from their own dinners.

Even stares after them long after they disappear and Isak rubs his hand on Even’s arm in a way that would look casual to an outside observer, but which serves to remind Even that he’s here and will support Even if he needs it.

“You okay?” he asks, and Even takes a whistling breath in, then nods.

“Yeah.  Yeah I am.  So, let’s get some kebab, okay?”

Hours later, the kebab is a distant memory and Even is curled up on Isak’s bed.  He’d expected his meeting today to leave him with lingering stress or anxiety or send him right back to the dark places he’s inhabited these last few days.  Or that it would draw out the Beast even as the depression was ebbing away.  But none of that is true.  Even is content here, wrapped in Isak’s arms with his head on Isak’s shoulder, his own arm over Isak’s chest and his fingers running through Isak’s hair.  It’s so soft between Even’s fingers that he winds it around them, enjoying the sensation.

“That was the guy from that video you made?” Isak asks as his own hand runs along Even’s shoulder blade in a way that makes Even shiver with pleasure.

He smiles, briefly, despite the fear that clenches at his heart again as Isak speaks.  “Mikael, yeah.  He was my best friend once.”

“But something happened,” Isak says.  

There’s no question in his voice but Even nods agreement anyway.  There’s something really restful about being here in this small space, just the two of them.  Even feels like he can talk here, say things that can’t be allowed to pass outside these walls, or even past the edges of the bed.  But here, he’s free.  A little.  Some things are still too big for even this space.  Like Mikael and everything he meant to Even.

“Yeah.  It’s a long and complicated story, and I’m sorry but I’m not really up to talking about it.”

Isak nods in his turn.  “Yeah I get that.”

There’s a long silence.  Even’s torn between blissful comfort and a developing tension because he knows he and Isak need to talk.  About a lot of stuff.  But there’s one thing that really needs to be addressed first.

“I’m sorry,” he says and Isak hums softly in query.  Even laughs, but there’s no humor in it.  He can hear the desperate desire to know that sits behind Isak’s hum, even as he pretends nonchalance.  Even recognizes it from his own thoughts. “I should have told you about being bipolar.”

Isak stirs a little, restless underneath him.  His hand stops running along Even’s shoulder for a few seconds and even in that short time, Even misses it acutely.  What the fuck has he become?  When did something as small as a brush of fingers on a shoulder come to be so important?

“No, that’s not …” Isak says, after a few moments of thought.  “I said before you don’t owe me anything.”

“Still.  It must have scared the shit out of you when I got here that night when I …”

Even can’t quite bring himself to say  _ when I was manic, _ but Isak just kisses his head like he already knows and says, “actually, your dad called us and let us know you were coming.”

Even stills.  “Oh,” he says.  “That’s … uh, I guess that’s good.”

“They said you gave them the number.”

Thinking back, Even can vaguely recall telling his father to contact him via a piece of paper he shoved into his hand.  It’s all a jumbled mess of memories, but he can almost extract that one.  “I guess I did, yeah.”

“I’m sorry, too, baby,” Isak says and there’s so much agony in his voice that Even sits up to stare down at him.  Isak tries to pull him back down, but Even takes his face in his hands and makes him look at him, trying desperately to understand.

“Why are you sorry?” He tries to keep his voice soft because he can tell Isak is a little taken aback.  Even gives him a small kiss to make sure he knows it’s all okay.  “What did you do?”

Isak looks at him with eyes filled with self doubt and pain.  The sight makes something tug deep in Even’s chest and he gently moves his thumbs on Isak’s cheeks, trying to wipe it all away.  Isak takes a shaky breath before he speaks.

“It shouldn’t have been as hard for you to talk about as it was.  If I’d been more open with you, maybe …”

Even’s known for a while that Isak has his own secrets that he’s been reluctant to talk about.  But this is the first time he’s heard Isak speak this way about himself.  It makes him sadder than he thought Isak could make him.

His own voice cracks when he says, “baby, hey.  No.  It’s definitely not your issue.  Neither of us has to tell each other things we don’t want to.”  He tries to lighten the mood, tries desperately to elicit the laughter he so loves in Isak.  “No matter how many stories I’ve been making up about what went on to make you move in here.”

Isak snorts, despite the tears shining in his eyes.  “You have stories?”

“Do I have stories?  I have so many stories.  There’s the one where you’re actually a spy and you moved here for you own protection because your mother was getting too close to the truth.” Isak giggles, a sound that makes Even’s heart swell and so he keeps on.  “Or the one where Eskild needed a man slave and you volunteered.  There’s the one where you lost a bet and had to join this house for a year as a personal chef, or the one where--”

“The one where I ran away from home because my mother got to be too much for me,” Isak cuts in quietly.  “The one where Eskild found me in a gay bar and brought me here and looked after me and has done ever since.”

Even gapes at him, not sure when this turned from loving jests into something like  _ this, _ and not entirely sure how to handle it _.   _ “Seriously?” he asks eventually when the silence draws out too long and Isak has withdrawn into himself, his head turned away from Even and his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

Isak nods, his throat working as he obviously tries to keep his tears inside.  “I didn’t want to say anything because … well, it’s because of how she was as a Beast that it became too much.  But … I’m sick of not telling you.”

There’s a deep weariness in Isak’s voice, a sense that he has been bottling this up for a very long time, which makes Even’s heart sink.  Here he’s been keeping so much to himself and it’s made Isak feel like he has to as well.

“Oh, baby.  I’m so sorry.”

“I thought you’d run away from me if I told you.  So I just didn’t say anything.”

Even laughs, the sound mirthless in the still of the room.  “You’re not the only one, baby.  I didn’t tell you I was bipolar because I thought you’d react the way you did when you found out about the Beast.”  He thinks for a moment.  “But that’s why, isn’t it?  You reacted like that because of your mother?”

Looking miserable, Isak nods.  “I’ve been such an asshole,” he says.  “I won’t blame you if you want to leave.”

“Why would I want to leave?” 

Isak shrugs, but refuses to hold eye contact with Even.  It’s clear he thinks there’s ample reason for Even to go.  And okay, so in the darkest moments of the last week or so, Even has thought about exactly that on more than one occasion.  But it was always because he thought that would be best for Isak.  Looking at Isak’s defeated body language, Even decides he has to tell him.

“I … uh.  I have a confession to make.  You remember that day with the soup?”

Isak nods, looking briefly happier.  The memory of that day is clearly one that sustains him.

“I was going to leave that day, “ Even says, chancing a look at Isak.  His body has gone stiff and he’s staring at Even with wide, horrified eyes.  “Baby, no.  Not like that, I promise.”  He leans in to punctuate his words with another kiss which makes Isak relax a little, though he’s still stiff and his eyes look anxious.  “I need you to know why, though.  I thought … I honestly thought that it would be best for you not to be with me.  That if I stayed I was being selfish.”

“Do you still think that way?” Isak asks, curiosity bleeding into his tone.

“I … yeah, sometimes.  I have nothing to offer you except a Beast I can’t control and a mental illness that takes me over sometimes.  I’m a mess and you don’t deserve that.”

“Hey!” Isak’s fierce now, his eyes glowing with an inner fire.  “You’re not a mess and I’ll  _ never  _ want you to leave.”

That hits Even hard, and his body freezes.  How can he accept something like that?  He’s an asshole who really doesn’t deserve that.  At the same time, the words send a warm rush through Even; they mean  _ so much _ that it’s hard to prevent a glow from setting up residence.  Still. It’s a hard notion for Even to acknowledge, but he does.  “Thank you,” he whispers.  

“And anyway, you offer me every fucking thing.  Before you my life was pretty shit.”

“Eskild said something like that too, but when I’m in that state I can’t think straight and I didn’t believe him.”  Even sighs, looking away.  “Not those words anyway.”

“There were words you did believe?”

It’s hard to talk about, but Even tries anyway.  Here in their space it’s simpler, though not exactly easy.  He has Isak’s hand clutched in his own like a lifeline, and it’s the only thing anchoring him.  Isak, as he always has done, keeps Even in the here and now.  Even forces himself to speak, to tell Isak all the shit he’s been thinking for the last while.  It’s hard, letting the ugly underbelly of Even’s mind out into the open, but he does it because Isak needs to know.  Even holds Isak’s gaze as he speaks; it makes it all a little less terrifying.

“Yeah, all the shit ones, the ones which repeated anything anyone ever told me about how bad I was for you.”

“You’re not bad for me!”

“I keep trying to believe that, but it’s hard.”  He takes a breath and pulls Isak into his body, onto his lap, enjoying the feeling of having him so close, solid and warm and his and  _ allowed. _  “Anyway, even with all that shit people said and all the things my brain was telling me I still didn’t leave.  You know why?”

He can feel Isak’s head shaking against his neck and he huffs out a little laugh.  “Because being with you made me feel better, and I couldn’t bring myself to lose that.”

It feels big, like a confession.  It’s as close as Even can get right now to  _ I love you, _ because he doesn’t want to scare Isak away, not now that he’s finally in a space again where he can push his fears to the side and try to let himself enjoy this time together with Isak.

Isak’s arms wrap around him more tightly.  “I feel the same way,” he whispers.  “I feel better when you’re here.”

“Okay,” Even says.  “We agree to stay here together then, making each other feel better?”

“Mmmmm,” Isak says.  “That sounds good.”

He snuggles down on the bed and pulls Even down beside him.  There’s silence between them, but it’s good.  Something has settled between them, and Even’s brain has stopped reminding him of how awful he is.  The peace is back, and it allows them to relax again.  _  I love you,  _ Even thinks once more as he pulls Isak in tighter.   _ I love you, _ and that thought sustains him.  One day he might even get to let Isak in on that secret.  One day.


	7. Chapter 7

Tension ripples under Even’s skin as he pushes open the doors to the school.  Fear swamps him as he tries to force himself to take the first step into the building.  Heat prickles the back of his neck as he founders under the weight of the whole school’s stares.  Objectively, Even  _ knows _ not everyone is staring.  He knows that most people are probably paying no attention to him, going about the start of their own day blissfully unaware of Even and his dramatic reappearance (in his head, Even overemphasizes the ‘dramatic’ and rolls his eyes at himself).  But it feels like he has the eyes of the world on him as he walks into the building for the first time in so long.  There are still the appreciative female gazes on him as they watch him pushing the door (or are they more interrogative? The thought unsettles Even).  There’s still the way some move in slow circles, following him with their eyes and bodies as they watch his progress, only now it all feels invasive and intrusive rather than exciting and empowering.

Not for the first time, Even regrets the swagger he put on when he first started here.  He needed it then, when he was vulnerable and insecure and unwilling to admit that he was scared.  But now … now he’s paying the price of making people see him a certain way; he’s paying the price of wanting to be the cool guy who had it all together.  

Even can feel the Beast stirring, with slow rumbles of fear and anger in his belly and the slight raising of his hackles as he feels so exposed, and consequently threatened.  The Beast is never as active when he’s depressed, so he should technically see this as a good sign.  But he can’t.  The Beast is unpredictable and can lead to behaviour that hurts other people.  Every time he hurts someone because he can’t control his instincts, Even feels a little smaller and a little shittier inside.  It’s been somewhat better with Isak, the fear has fallen slightly, the edge is gone from the panic, but it still hovers, ready to get him in its clutches again.  And here the biggest problem is that most people don’t even know.  If the Beast manages to get the best of Even and he lets himself give in to it, then Even is fucked.  He knows the principal’s warning on the first day of school was an attempt to keep him calm, and he still has enough self-doubt to worry that without Sonja, or another Beauty, he’s going to expose his flaws for all to see.

The fear is building, along with a sick feeling.  Even feels almost breathless, panic clogging his throat as he pauses with one hand on the door and unable to bring himself to move his feet inside.  Going inside means facing it all.  Going inside means accepting that he’s back here and he has to try to fake being okay.

A laugh pulls Even out of his head and he looks up and into green eyes filled with compassion and understanding.  

Isak is with him; he must remember that.  He doesn’t actually have to face this alone.  They’re doing this together.  They woke together this morning, went through their now-familiar routine, and made their way to school together.  To the outside world, they’re giving no hint that they are intimate, that they mean more to each other than friends.  But Even still feels Isak’s presence in his bones and it still gives him some strength when he comes face to face with his fears  _ (I’m shit, the Beast is too powerful, they’re all talking about me, I’m worthless) _ .  Isak’s hand is ghosting beside Even’s, not touching but there in unspoken support.  Isak’s smile is bright as he turns to grin at Even from his spot just inside the door, and Isak’s eyes which draw Even’s own gaze to them, are filled with so much affection and understanding that Even draws in one startled, thankful breath of his own.  That look gives Even enough impetus to take the first step inside then another and another.  Isak’s presence, quiet and unassuming in its support, is instrumental in getting Even inside the school.

“Come on, old man.  You need to keep up,” Isak says, tilting his head and grinning at Even.  The tone of his voice, and the look in his eye, say  _ I’ve got you _ while the grin and the body language tell the rest of the world he’s just being bantery and playful.  Even is hit again by how much he loves Isak.  The words want to come out, they hover on his tongue, bright and keen, but Even drags them back in.  This is not the time or place for those sorts of confessions.

“Fuck off,” he says instead.  “Don’t think I didn’t notice you wheezing when you had to walk more than ten minutes today.”

“That wasn’t … I was … I had a drop that got stuck in my throat … and then my throat didn’t work properly.”

There’s a scowl on Isak’s face and his eyes are hooded.  As much as he’s joking, it really does irritate Isak when he’s not good at something.  The thought makes Even’s heart lighten.  This boy, so kind and caring and affectionate, is also so fucking competitive and Even loves him for it.

Even nods, grinning.  He’s feeling so much more at ease already.  “Mmmhmm,” he says.  “You keep telling yourself that.”

Isak’s scowl deepens, and all Even wants to do is kiss it off his face.  Isak’s walking backwards now, a challenging look on his face and a stubborn set to his jaw.

“Asshole.  I’m the master of walking.  After school we’re doing that again and I will beat you.”

“Okay, sure.”  Even nods solemnly, keeping his grin to himself and trying to look as serious as he can.  “Whatever you say.”

Isak pushes him, the mock outrage clear in every line of his laughing face.  At his touch, electricity buzzes through Even and he catches his breath.  To the outside eye, Even’s sure they just look like a couple of guys giving each other a hard time, but he can feel the pull between them now.  He can feel his body reacting to Isak’s touch, feel the fiery bursts of energy where each of his fingers burns on Even’s skin.  It’s a welcome feeling, one he’s been missing for so long.  But there’s fear behind it.  All of their sexual interactions so far have been when Even was already starting to slide.  His mother is right on one point; he doesn’t know what will happen between them if (no … when,  _ definitely _ when) they get naked together again.  Will it be different?  Will the Beast come to the fore now that the bipolar stuff isn’t overshadowing it currently?  Will Even fuck it all up?  He has no idea how to be a Beast when he’s with Isak the Outcast in this way.

Isak’s smile has slipped and his eyes are intense as they look at him, and Even shivers as he sees the lust in them.  Isak can feel it too then, the building desire now that Even’s mostly back to an equilibrium.  Even wants nothing more than to drag Isak somewhere to talk it through (or maybe even see it through) but the bell rings, shrill and irritating, and they have to separate to go to class.

“I’ll see you at break?” Isak asks as he turns to walk away and Even can only nod, swallowing all his fears and worries behind a happy facade and cheerful smile.  It feels stiff on his face, unnatural, and Even just hopes Isak isn’t picking up on his fears as well as his desire.  

This all could be the lingering effects of the depression, Even reminds himself.  There’s no reason to assume that he’s going to be an asshole to Isak; there’s no reason to assume he’s going to let the Beast take over when they have sex.  He had to force himself to be beastly with Sonja, after all, so there’s no reason to worry now.   _ Except, _ his asshole inner voice argues,  _ Sonja is a Beauty and maybe that was part of what kept the Beast at bay _ .  Maybe it’s going to be harder when it’s just him and Isak and there’s nothing there to prevent Even from tipping over, apart from himself.

Even forces himself to his first class.  It’s okay.  It’s Norwegian and he’s never minded it too much.  Today they’re looking at Amalie Skram again and he huffs out a laugh, reminded of his father and his earnest admonition to learn from her life.  There’s still something about that conversation that bugs Even as the teacher points out ways her life overlapped and informed her work, and how her resistance to the archetypal norms meant she had a hard time in many ways.  Something in what Even’s dad said doesn’t gel well with what Even’s reading on the page, even as his teacher is trying hard to make those connections.  His father had insinuated that she was powerless against the archetypal stuff.   His dad insisted that breaking free of that was what made her unhappy and ended with her being cast out.  Even doesn’t see that in the things he’s reading.  He sees archetypal stuff that, in his opinion, fucks with the entirety of society.  He doesn’t see lack of power in her works either.  She seems solid and strong in who she is.  She seems like she believed in something so hard she didn’t let anyone stop her.  This idea that  _ she _ should be used as a cautionary tale seems absurd.  That her society saw things in a particular way that she couldn’t fit into seems like an odd thing to pin on  _ her.  _  Not when  _ they _ were the ones who couldn’t cope with a free thinker.  What if she wasn’t the problem?  What if it was the society that bred her that was the issue?

The lesson ends before Even has a chance to really finish thinking it through, but it settles something in his chest, lets one fear rest a tiny bit.  This is the first time Even’s really allowed himself to think about things this clearly.  He still doesn’t have a solid grasp on what he’s trying to work through, but there’s something.  A glimmer, a hint of something that seems important but is frustratingly just out of reach.  By the time he gets to his next class, Even has lost the thread, but he’s determined.  One day he’s going to make it all make sense.  And maybe if he can make all these things mean something, then he can figure out his own life rather than stumbling blindly through it the way he is now.

The rest of the day drags, but it’s not as paralyzing as those first few moments had been.  Even’s managing to take long, deep breaths when he needs to, to close his eyes and focus on something nice (Isak, always Isak) whenever he feels like he might slip and let the Beast out.  He manages to stave off the tiredness and the anxiety as the day draws on.  It’s a lot, and he should possibly not have tried to do a whole day this first time back.  But he makes it to the end somehow (through sheer will and Isak’s constant texted memes, probably), and he’s happy as he leans his back against the wall outside and waits for Isak to appear.

The boys come out first, Jonas and Magnus arguing about something and Mahdi interjecting occasional comments.  They don’t see Even for a moment and he takes the opportunity to examine them silently before he makes his presence known.  These are the people, after all, who are closest to Isak.  These are the people Even has to understand and get along with.  Jonas is the leader, that much is clear.  He takes control of any conversation and his mixture of exasperated humor and idealistic ranting seems to keep the others focused.  Even supposes it’s the Wise Man in him coming out, making him take the lead and be the voice of reason.  He likes it, Jonas seems like a solid friend.  Mahdi is the laid back one, the Charming who takes things as they come and seems happy with whatever choices the others make.  Even snorts as he watches the dynamics; it’s so typical of a Charming to be a people pleaser, willing to go with what others want and Even’s always liked the ones he’s known.  They make pleasant, chill friends.  Magnus, as is to be expected, is the clown.  He has no filter at all and just says whatever comes into his head.  It’s clear, even from here, that this is what they’re arguing about.  Jonas is telling him off fondly, and Magnus is protesting.

They get closer and Even is able to hear the conversation.

“...but if he is a Beast then why’s it a problem for people to say it?”

Even’s chest freezes.  Magnus doesn’t mean to say things that upset, but it happens anyway when he just lets his mouth run.  Even’s throat closes and the greeting that was sitting on his tongue is lost in the terror of what he’s hearing.   _ Someone knows, _ is Even’s only coherent thought and he barely takes in what Jonas says in reply.

“Because he obviously doesn’t want people to know.”

“But that’s such a cool type, and it fits with Isak refusing to say, right?”

Magnus is so excited and while that makes Even smile because he’s kind of endearing, he’s still in shock and his heart is hammering against his chest and nausea is rising in his throat.  It’s all he can do not to let it out and he swallows hard in his panic.  It’s not that Even doesn’t want these guys to know, but he’s worried about how this might change the way they see him and his relationship with Isak.  They don’t  _ seem _ concerned, but time and distance from the moment and from Even could change that.  The ice in Even’s veins threatens to take up permanent residence and he’s frozen in place, incapable of moving a limb.

“Be chill,” Mahdi says now. “Types aren’t anyone’s concern but the person’s.” 

Jonas looks up then and spots Even.  His face drops a little and red stains his cheeks.  Magnus is still cheerfully rambling about types and how it doesn’t matter if someone’s a Beast because they’re cool, all the TV shows say so.  It takes Mahdi one quick glance in Even’s direction for him to thump Magnus on the arm and for Magnus to amble to an awkward halt as he too sees Even.

“Halla,” Jonas finally gets out, his cheeks still flaming and his eyes filled with panicked fear.

“Hey,” Even finally manages to force out through his closed-off throat.  It sounds like it’s coming from someone else and not him and his head feels light and dizzy as he looks at these people who now know his worst secret and are all staring at him in curiosity.

Even swallows.  His feet twitch to take him as far away from here as he can get, but he’s now burning with a need to see Isak.  He can’t leave, even though every muscle is screaming at him to cut and run and not face any of this shit.  Besides, he’s still frozen to the spot and unsure if his legs would obey if he tried to run.

“You … you heard that?” Magnus asks now and he sounds scared.

Even nods.  He still can’t talk, there’s panic clogging him and he can’t bring himself to make more than the smallest gestures.  Magnus gapes and his face is suddenly flushed bright crimson.

Jonas clears his throat and says, “Even.  Just so you know, it’s not our business but if you ever wanted to say anything it’s all chill.”  He looks around at the others.  “Isn’t that right, guys?”

They both nod.  Mahdi looks as unruffled as ever and Magnus is bobbing his head like one of those toys that sit in car windows.  The panic edges away slightly.  They’re not going to attack Even, at least not here and now.

“Thanks,” Even manages to whisper before he feels a hand settling on his back, sending fire through his veins briefly before it’s gone and there’s a cheerful voice next to his ear.

“Halla, guys.”

Isak looks around at the others and his face shutters.  He glances sideways at Even and whatever he sees in his face is enough to make him turn on his friends.  It’s like he knows this has something to do with them.  Even’s not even sure how, but their guilty expressions clearly say enough.

“What’s the matter?  What did you idiots do?”

“Oh … uh.  We …” Magnus begins, trailing off as Jonas shrugs repentantly.

“We might have been discussing types and Magnus might have been repeating gossip he heard about Even, and Even might have overheard it.”

The look Isak gives Magnus is pure disdain.  “We told you once before it’s not important for you to know.  Why are you like this?”

Magnus opens his mouth to speak, but Isak stops him with one withering look.  He runs a hand along Even’s arm, reassuring him the only way they can here.  It’s not enough to remove the terror that’s swamping Even’s body, but it does make him feel that at least one person here is on his side.  That’s enough to drop a sliver of the tension from his shoulders.  Isak gives Even one slight smile, an assurance of his presence, then turns back to the others.

“We’re going to go now.  See you tomorrow?”

The tone of his voice brooks no argument.  He’s pissed, the anger sitting behind the bite in his words and the set of his jaw.  They had all intended to hang out together at the Kollectiv, playing FIFA and getting to know each other better.  But now it’s clear that Isak has called that off.  Even sags in relief.  After this day, there was little left in his reservoirs for seeing people anyway, and so the knowledge that he doesn’t have to see these guys right now makes his knees weak.

The others nod, a variety of chastened expressions on their faces, and Isak walks away without worrying whether Even will follow.  With a final nod, and a small smile to let the guys know he’s not totally shitty with them, Even turns to follow.  He’ll always follow Isak.

Even feels safe here.  It’s several hours later, they’ve had dinner and are now cuddled up on Isak’s bed.  Isak is lying on his back, and Even is tucked into his side, head on Isak’s shoulder and arms and legs wrapped as closely around Isak as they can get.  The two of them don’t often lie like this because Isak enjoys being held and it soothes some beastly instinct in Even to be the one doing the holding.  However, some days he needs to be cherished and protected himself, and Isak can often sense it; he’ll hold his arms out and Even will fall into him.  Isak’s hand is curling in and out of Even’s hair, massaging it in a way that’s almost soporific.  Even hums his contentment.

“How do you feel about all that?  With the guys?” Isak asks now, his hand carrying on its leisurely rhythm in Even’s hair.  He tenses a little at the question and Isak kisses his head gently as if to say again,  _ I’ve got you; you’re fine. _

Even sighs, a mixture of the content he’s feeling here in Isak’s arms and the stress that’s seeping in now that he’s thinking about all this again.  He decides to be honest.  “Scared.  Nervous, worrying that they’ll be angry or upset.  Thinking how it could get out more.  Wondering where the rumours came from.”

Isak nods.  Even can feel his chin moving against his own hair, and it’s strangely comforting.  “That’s a lot, “ Isak says, and Even huffs out a small laugh, not so much amused as surprised.  There’s a succinctness to Isak’s comments that hit to the heart of something without being overbearing.  He gets it and acknowledges it without overdramatizing it.

“Yeah,” Even agrees.  “It is.”

“It’s not making you feel … you know?”

For a moment Even doesn’t understand what Isak’s asking, but it clicks into place soon.  Does it make Even feel sad or maybe beastly, he means.  It’s funny, but when Sonja would say these things it seemed like she was tracking him, monitoring his moods.  When Isak does it, it seems like he’s fitting something together, like Even is a new science and Isak wants to understand him.  There’s curiosity there, a thirst for knowledge and understanding, but no sense that this information is being gathered to be used against Even.  It’s soothing in a way.

He lifts his head and leans in a little to kiss Isak.  “No, it’s not making me feel any of that stuff.  Just a bit …” he waves his hand around, trying to convey the jittery tension burning through him in one easy soundbite, “a bit anxious I guess.”  He sighs, feeling the tension ebbing in his body.  “But it’s okay.  I’m okay.”

Isak smiles.  His hand is firm now on Even’s neck, his grip strong and sure.  Even feels a tingle run through him as his gaze connects with Isak’s.  There’s something about those hands that does things to Even and he can feel the desire stirring again.  It’s been a long time coming and Even’s almost drowning in how intensely he’s feeling it.

“I’m glad,” Isak whispers, his voice husky.  “It’s nice when you’re happy and I don’t want some assholes to ruin that.  Even if they are my friends.”

“Believe me, baby,” Even says with a lingering kiss, “they’re not ruining anything.”

He shifts so he can more comfortably look at Isak, leaning on his forearm so he can use the other to run his fingers along Isak’s jaw.  He traces the outline of Isak’s lips, coming to rest in the middle of the bottom one.  He glances up to Isak’s eyes and they’re filled with longing.  His cheeks are flushed and his lip has dropped open against Even’s finger.  Even feels the familiar sense of oxygen being sucked out of the room with the intensity of that gaze.

After a long moment, he licks his lips and sees Isak’s eyes deepen in response.  Groaning, Even dips his head so he can kiss Isak properly.  Not a soft brush of lips to say hello or goodbye, not a gentle affirmation of affection, not a  _ goodnight baby, sleep well. _  No, it’s a spine tingling kiss that sends heat flooding through Even’s body, a kiss that asks the question  _ do you want to? _  And gets the fevered response  _ fuck yes  _ in return.

They kiss until Even is dizzy and breathless and has to pull back.  His head remains pressed to Isak’s, nose to nose, forehead to forehead.  They’re both panting, and Isak is restless under Even.  It’s intoxicating, and Even’s fairly sure Isak doesn’t even know he’s moving, which makes the press of his hard cock against Even’s leg even more thrilling.  There’s no discernible rhythm and there’s something really fucking amazing in the way Even’s been able to make Isak lose control with just a kiss.  He’s right there in the moment, himself, unwilling to let go just now.  There’s no mania, and Even wants to revel in it, in the way it feels just as fantastic as it has every other time.   _ It wasn’t mania, it wasn’t.  It’s still fucking good. _

It’s been so long that Even wants to savor it, he wants to take his time and let it wash over him.  There’s no rush here, and he’s filled with a need to touch, to feel every inch of Isak under his fingertips.  So he moves his hand, which has been raking through Isak’s hair, to his sides and slips it under the light t-shirt Isak’s wearing.  Isak gasps at the contact, and his skin reacts to Even’s touch.  He’s sensitive, and makes noises that go straight to Even’s dick as Even slowly pushes the shirt up.  Isak’s skin contracts under the light feathery touches of Even’s fingertips.  The gasps he makes at Even’s touch are soft but each one speaks of desperation and Even’s soon pressing his own dick against Isak’s leg in time with those noises pouring out of his mouth.  It’s so much that he soon has to pull back, sit up slightly and grin down at this beautiful boy in his arms.

“Too many shirts,” Isak says with a brief laugh which morphs into a sighing whimper when Even’s fingers run over his nipples.  He tugs on the shirt and Isak obligingly sits up enough to get it off, then Even’s suddenly impatient and rips his own off too.  He sits back to admire the way Isak’s body looks in the soft light of late evening.

He’s beautiful, his abs defined and gleaming with the sheen of sweat that already covers them.  His fingers are splayed on the bed beside him, long and clever, and Even aches to have them on his own body.  But for now he’s content to gaze and admire.  His eyes move up to Isak’s face and what he sees there makes him grin.  There’s desire, of course, naked longing and frustrated tension.  But there’s also affection and amusement.

“Enjoying the view?” Isak asks, his lips twitching up as he teases.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Even says.  “How are you even here?”

“I’ll always be here, baby.”  Isak’s eyes change again from amusement to intensity, then he smiles, a slow burning grin that makes Even’s heart rate pick up and his throat go dry.  “Now, are you going to get rid of these pants or are we just going to have a staring competition.”

“Well, now that you mention it, a staring competition sounds amazing,” Even says seriously, sitting back and holding Isak’s gaze with his own.

That earns him a slap on his arm and a “fuck you, asshole.”

Even grins and starts working on the button of Isak’s jeans.  They’re soon off, along with Even’s, and both of them are now in just their boxers, hard lengths pressed together as they kiss again.

“Can I blow you?” Even asks when he comes up for breath, body on fire and a need to do something to douse these flames that are consuming his body.  “I really really want you to come in my mouth again.”

Isak shivers as Even’s hands hover over the waistband of his boxers, just waiting for the final permission before removing them.  Isak nods, holding Even’s gaze as he hooks his fingers in and slides them down.  Isak’s cock bounces up when it’s released causing both of them to groan, Isak presumably at the sudden release of tension and Even at the sight of it standing tall against those fucking amazing abs.  It’s all Even can do to get the boxers off completely, before he’s touching the tip with his tongue.  Isak moans, that one small touch clearly already enough to spark desire in him.  The sound is husky in the still room, and Even reacts almost instinctively to it, doing the same thing again, this time more forcefully.  The taste of Isak, already pooling along the top, bursts into his mouth and Even moans.  He’s missed this so much, the taste and feel of Isak on his tongue.  He wants to drown in it now, take as much as he can and never let it go.  And if that’s a bit intense or too fucking weird, well Even doesn’t care.  He wants this; he needs it.

Even takes as much as he can into his mouth and swirls his tongue around.  Isak is writhing now, unable to keep still and small, broken words, (“fuck, Even,  _ fuck _ ...”) are pouring out of his mouth.  Even’s learned by now what Isak likes and he uses that knowledge to tease him, coming close to Isak’s most sensitive point with his tongue and then skittering away.  Isak’s hips are thrusting up, trying to get Even to that spot right under the head which always makes him see stars.  Finally, Even relents, and lets Isak’s cock drop out of his mouth so he can lick that spot over and over again, one hand firm on the base and the other steadying Isak’s hips.  Isak shudders and gasps, his hands clutched convulsively in the sheets and his mouth open in a silent shout as his body tightens in anticipation.

Just before he can tip over the edge, Even takes him fully into his mouth again and tightens his grasp on the base.  He strokes upwards while his tongue swirls around the head and suddenly Isak’s coming, and the taste of him is flooding Even’s mouth.  He closes his eyes in bliss as he swallows, loves the way it feels having Isak letting go like that.   This may be a weird reaction, but he can’t help but love the salty flavour as he swallows, savoring it.

Isak’s gasping when Even lets his softening cock drop out of his mouth, then crawls up his body to catch his lips in a searing kiss.   _ I love you, _ he thinks, but he still can’t say it, not even now when it’s singing in his veins and dancing in his skin.  Instead, he contents himself with pouring it all into this kiss, everything he feels, hoping Isak will understand some small portion of the way he makes Even feel.

Isak’s hand is back on Even’s head now, firm and sure and Even lets himself get lost in the sensation of that hand in his hair.

“Your turn,” Isak says as he pulls back to look at Even.

“You don’t have to--”

“I want to,” Isak says and his hands are already on the waistband of Even’s boxers.  

Even nods and before he’s had a chance to think, they’re down at his knees and Isak is pushing him impatiently onto his back so he can drag them the rest of the way.  It’s hot, Isak pushing him around like this, and it turns him on even more if possible.  To try to even out his reaction, Even laughs.

“You’re in that much of a hurry, baby?”

“You have no idea.”

Isak’s eyes are dark with want and Even’s throat goes dry as he feels a roar building in his body.  It’s been a long time since he’s felt that sort of intensity, a long time since the Beast has risen unbidden like that during a situation like this, and he’s suddenly worried that the Beast will come out fully if he lets himself go.  He forces it back as Isak kisses his way down his body.  Every touch of his lips is fire and Even’s soon lost in the sensations, the fear now a dull buzz in the back of his head as he allows himself to enjoy the way Isak’s lips feel.

Then Isak takes him into his mouth and Even’s gone.  He’d forgotten how this feels over the last few weeks and the feeling of being enveloped is so overwhelming he almost whites out from the pleasure.  Isak is still hesitant, a little unsure of what he’s doing but that hesitance makes everything  _ more. _  It’s imperfect and unpredictable, his tongue loses focus at times and his teeth occasionally scrape slightly.  But through it all is the obvious sheer delight he takes in experimenting, the joy of figuring it out, the smug hum when Even moans in appreciation.  And every movement of that mouth, those lips and that tongue sends shockwaves through Even, allowing tension to build up in his balls until his own hands are grasping the sheets below him and some ragged stream of nonsense is escaping his lips.  Soon it’s unbearable and Even clumsily scrabbles until he manages to tap Isak’s head, letting him know he’s close.  Isak just meets his eyes and smirks at him, his eyes gleaming and his lips stretched and red around Even’s dick.  It’s so fucking hot that it’s all it takes.  Even is suddenly spurting into Isak’s mouth.  He looks startled as he tries to swallow, but doesn’t quite manage to catch it all, popping off just as Even’s finishing.

It takes several minutes for Even to catch his breath and by then Isak has wiped his mouth and slid up Even’s body to curl himself around him.  Even lets his arm drop around Isak’s shoulder and pulls him in tighter.  Isak hums a little, in the way that Even knows is a prelude to some question he’s hesitant to ask.  He rubs his shoulder encouragingly and Isak smiles.

“How are you feeling?” he asks now, tilting his head so he can look up into Even’s eyes.

“I’m good … fucking great.  That was amazing.”

“Yeah,” Isak says, settling down again.  “It was.”  He rests his chin on Even’s chest and sighs.  “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“So am I,” Even says, kissing his hair.  

As they settle into sleep, as Isak snuffles softly and his head grows heavy on Even’s shoulder, Even realizes he’s telling the absolute truth.  He does feel better, even after the events of today.  He’s still scared and overwhelmed but he’s not feeling like the world is going to collapse and fall on him. 

It’s not all at once, but life gets brighter.  Even stops having the days when he feels like there’s a cloud hanging over everything he does.  He stops worrying quite so intensely about all the ways in which his nature is going to jump out and attack him (and other people) when he least expects it.  Instead, Even starts noticing the tiny things again.  He soaks up the sun when he lies in a small park at the end of a busy day.  He allows himself to feel it in his bones, feel the happiness that just being quiet can bring.  He lets rain trickle down his face as he stands laughing in the open, revels in the cool drops biting his skin through his clothes.  He cooks again, eggs at first.  The sour cream bubbles into the mixture and the familiar aroma wraps itself around him.  Even stills, appreciating it.  The way his tummy rumbles at the sharp scent of the eggs is startling, after so long being apathetic to it, and he lets his eyes flutter closed so he can drink it in.

A hand touches Even’s back and curls around his hip in a hug.  Even smiles, leaning sideways into the warmth on offer.  Lips press to his cheek, and the scent that is Isak (that tang of musk and clean shampoo) drifts to him and mingles with those from the cooking.  It’s heady, and Even opens his eyes so he can take in Isak’s smiling face and kissable lips.  They’re so kissable and so close that Even feels it would be criminal not to take advantage of the moment.  He slides his lips onto Isak’s and receives a pleased hum in response.

“Oh, this is nice,” a voice says, shattering the moment and making Isak laugh against Even’s mouth.

“What do you want, Eskild?” Isak asks, exasperation warring with fondness in his voice.  He pulls away from Even a little, turning his body so he can see the intruder.  Even feels the absence keenly and pouts as he looks back at the eggs he’s still theoretically making.

“That’s not a way to speak to your guru, Baby Gay.”

Isak rolls his eyes.  He gives Even’s arm a squeeze before moving to the small table and plopping down into a seat.  

“What is ‘nice’?” Isak asks, pointedly, and Eskild glances at Even with a grin.

“This.  Even.  The food.”  He moves over to Even and leans over the pan, inhaling deeply.  His eyes are sparkling when he stands up again.  “I’ve missed your food so much, Even.  You have no idea how we’ve suffered with Isak cooking.”

“Fuck  _ off, _ Eskild.  I’m a fucking great cook.”  Isak grimaces at Eskild before he looks over to Even with a smile.  “Maybe not as good at this creative shit as you are.  But,” he says glaring at Eskild, “I’m the master at recipes.   _ And _ it tastes amazing.”

“You should stop being so jealous, Isak,” Eskild says.  “Learn to accept that we can love other people too.”

Even laughs and shares a glance with Eskild who’s looking at Isak with so much fondness that it makes something ease in Even’s chest.  He’s so grateful for the presence Eskild is in Isak’s life.

Isak pouts, his brows knit together and he opens his mouth, clearly intending to argue the point even more.  Even can’t believe how utterly endearing it is.

“Baby, don’t you worry,” Even says now.  “I love your cooking, and you make the best soup.”

He kisses Isak on the cheek for emphasis.

“See,” Isak says pointedly, clearly aiming his words at Eskild.  “The master.”

Eskild holds his hands up in defeat.  “Okay fine.  The baby gay is a great cook, whatever.  I still missed Even, though.”  He presses a kiss to Even’s cheek, startling him, but leaving behind a warm, accepted feeling.  “I’m glad you’re better.”

“Yeah,” Even agrees.  “I am too.”

He finishes cooking, then serves the food onto four plates.  Eskild scurries off with one for Linn, who’s settled in her room for the day, before coming back and taking his own place at the small table.  Even loves this table.  It’s so tiny that his leg is pressed against Isak’s and his arm brushes his every time he moves.  It’s causing fire to race along his veins again and he can tell from the way he feels Isak’s eyes on him every so often that Isak is feeling it too.  

Even wonders when it will stop, this thing they have.  He wonders when the time will come when the touch of Isak’s skin won’t turn his own skin to flame and make Even feel like he’s home with every tiny moment of contact.  Every moment is so intense that it surely can’t last.  It has to mellow out into something more sustainable.  But for now, Even can’t get enough of the way his body lights up whenever Isak is near.  It’s not quite the same as it was in those first heady days when things were totally new and mania was approaching.  But it’s so close an approximation that Even knows that was all real, too.

He’s eating and enjoying it, savoring each bite, experiencing the way the tastes play on his tongue.  However, his awareness beyond the food is so hyper-focused on Isak, that it’s almost a shock when Eskild speaks again.

“I meant it, you know.”

Even halts with his fork halfway to his mouth and squints at Eskild.  “Meant what?” he asks.  Beside him, Isak is giving Eskild an equally bewildered look.

“I was worried about this whole thing you have going, at the start.  This wrong archetypes thing,” he clarifies when they both must still look confused.  “But look at you now.  This is  _ good.  _  And I wanted you to know.”

Gratitude and happiness threaten to choke Even.  He can feel the tears in his eyes, happy ones.  It’s so nice to hear those words when he’s not still in a fog of depression and self-hatred, when he can appreciate them and all they mean.  He reaches out to grip Eskild’s hand, and feels his own patted in return.   _ It’s okay, _ Eskild seems to say with that pat,  _ you don’t have to say anything; I know what you’re trying to say even if you can’t voice it. _  Isak scoffs, but Even can see the pleased smile sitting under it, recognizes the thrill Isak, too, is getting from Eskild.  He may be the first Godmother Even’s ever met, but he hopes he won’t be the last.  He’s a good person, a good soul and to Even it seems like his type radiates such care that it’s breathtaking.

“Does this mean my trial is over?  That my balls are safe now?”  Even’s laughing, but he’s at least half serious.  Eskild means so much to Isak, and Isak means so much to Even, that it’s important (critical, really) for Even to be accepted by this guru.

“Even,” Eskild sighs.  “That trial was over the next day.  I’ve never seen my baby gay so happy.  It’s so obvious how good you are for him.”

Beside Even, Isak squirms and when Even glances at him he can see a flush high on his cheeks.  He kisses the one closest to him, feeling the heated skin under his lips and grinning as he sits back.  The look in Isak’s eyes is heated, too, and Even can feel his dick stirring.  With his eyes still on Isak, he says, “thank you.  That means … that means a lot.”

Eskild laughs.  “God, you two need to go get a room.”  He shoos them with an exaggerated hand motion.  “Go put that intensity to good use.  I’ll do these dishes.  Loudly.  With lots of music playing.”

Isak rolls his eyes and scoffs again.  “It’s not like we have sex all the time, Eskild.”

“You forget, Baby Gay, that I live here and I have ears and I hear things.”

“Ugh, stop, Eskild.  I don’t want to think about that.”

Eskild shrugs and waves them away.  Because of Eskild’s words, Isak’s too embarrassed to do more than cuddle, but Even is happy with that.  There’s a certain sort of peace he gets when it’s just him and Isak and they’re together.  When he has his arms wrapped around Isak and he can feel the steady thrum of Isak’s heart where it presses up against the side of Even’s chest, he feels content.  All the things that usually force their way into his brain are silenced when they’re here like this.  Even likes this oasis they have, and he wishes he could keep it forever.  But there are still the niggling worries.  People know now, or there are rumours, and Even knows he can’t escape them forever.  But for now, he pushes all of that away and lets himself be carried away with Isak, gives himself this one moment of peace where he can tell the world to fuck off and it will listen for once.

 

School is … it’s getting a little overwhelming, actually.  Even finds himself seizing up with panic when he enters the doors, every day.  It’s a sense that he can be found out, that any of these people around can be the ones who speculated, who somehow knew what he was.  What he is.  He’s swamped with anxiety, feels it inching through his veins every time he puts his hands on the doors.  The painful waves of it get more intense and only starts to dissipate when the first lesson is almost over.  It never leaves him completely, though, and even Isak’s presence isn’t enough to dispel the tension.  Even can feel his puzzled concern growing as every day passes and Even gets more tense.

A girl glances at them and her lip curls a little as she turns to laugh with her friend.  Even’s suddenly aware of his every tiny movement.  Is he acting too beastly?  Is that what she saw when she looked at him? Does she  _ know? _  A boy bumps into him, then backs away with wide eyes and a panicked expression, and Even is sure he must be reacting to the knowledge that Even is a Beast and is likely to snap at any moment.  He starts second guessing everything he does, hyper aware of every other student in the school and the way their eyes dart as they light on Even.  It’s exhausting.

“Baby?” Isak says one day.  “Are you okay?”

Even shrugs, already out of the habit of being honest with Isak because he felt he had to hide so much when he was depressed, and since he’s still keeping his love close to his chest.  Isak’s eyes narrow and he gets a set to his jaw like he’s about to take on the world.  It’s one Even has seen a few times, but it’s usually directed at people who are threatening Even, not at Even himself.  He swallows in sudden fear.

“You should, maybe, talk to someone,” Isak says now.  His eyes are fixed on Even’s face and he’s tense.  It’s clear in every line of his body that Isak has been building himself up to this.

“I already talk to my therapist,” Even says, grimacing as he thinks of her.  He’s missed a couple of sessions lately and he knows he should be concerned about that, particularly as his thoughts are whirling in the way that they are, but he hates the idea of being there with her and her judgement and his inability to talk of what really matters to him.

Isak snorts as if he can read Even’s thoughts.  “She’s fucking shit, though.”

Despite himself, Even laughs.  “Yeah, she kind of is.”

“I mean, maybe find someone else.  Someone not-shit.”

“Someone not-shit?  That’s a nice job description.  Wanted: new therapist; must be not-shit.”

Isak grins.  “Well, why not?  If she’s not working for you, why not find someone else?”

Even stills.  It’s not a question he’s ever asked himself.  It’s just been accepted: she’s his therapist, in much the same way as he’s a Beast.   _ Or, _ he reminds himself,  _ in the same way that you needed a Beauty? _  He turns the idea over in his mind.  Would it really be a bad thing?  Would it really be the end of the world if he stopped seeing that woman?  He can’t even bring himself to think of her name, that’s how little he enjoys the time he spends with her.  Even hums.

“You might be right,” he says.  “Why not find someone new?”

Isak relaxes, his body leeching tension like a poison being drawn out, leaving him immediately more relaxed.  His eyes brighten and his smile is quick and bvibrant.  He pulls Even into a hug and whispers, “you’re so fucking amazing,” and Even’s heart is so full he’s not sure how he can contain it in his body.

Isak pulls back a little, and he says, “there’s always the school doctor.” His forehead creases and he thinks.  “Or maybe not a doctor?  But not a nurse either?  She’s … a little odd, but she can be helpful.”

Even’s heart squeezes a tiny bit as he listens between the lines of what Isak is saying.  He’s had to ask for help before, he’s had to deal with shit before.  It still pains Even that Isak hasn’t had a great life.  It’s not fair that someone like him should have had to suffer.  Even wishes he could protect Isak from all of that, but he can’t.  All he can do is be there into the future.  And part of that is making sure he’s looking after himself, and if talking to the school doctor is what he needs to do, then he’ll damn well do it.  For Isak.

It can’t hurt, really.  And while he’s at school, she may be someone to go to when the panic sets in and Even’s thoughts attack him.  He nods.  “Okay,” he says.  “Let’s try it.”

“Yeah?” Isak asks, and there’s a grin there trying to break free, but Isak’s holding it back, his lips twisted and his eyes sparkling though he’s trying to hide just how much this means to him.

“Yeah.  It sounds like a good idea.”

So Even finds himself two days later sitting outside an office while receptionists gossip.  He doesn’t take in their words, hearing enough to know it’s about medical issues and bodily fluids and Even has no interest in any of that at all.  He’s jittery, nervous.  It’s been a long time since he’s had to say ‘help me’ to someone new, and the idea is terrifying.  But if it’s a choice between this and the panic he feels so much of every day, then Even thinks he’ll take this.  It’s marginally better.

His name is called, and fear stabs at Even’s heart.  He stands, his legs wobbly and his heart hammering.  The walk to the room seems to take much longer than five little steps should.  He sits when he enters, on a tiny chair close to the door.  It’s so symbolic of his desire to run and not address his problems that Even rolls his eyes at himself.  Paradoxically, it calms him a little.  He’s here and it’s hard but he’s still him, and he still knows himself.  He can do this.

The doctor has been sitting examining him while all these thoughts race through his head.  Her eyes are intense and she’s leaning forward like he’s a fascinating specimen.

“So,” she says finally.  “You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah.  Or, well … my … my friend said I should maybe come because it might help?”

“Mmmmm.”  She sits back in her seat and looks him over again.  “And what do you think?  You think it will help?”

Even shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I hope so.  I get … very worried when I come to school.  It’s like … like everyone is staring at me and they know all the bad stuff about me and I can’t focus on anything.”

“Mmmm.  Mmmm, I see.”  She turns to her computer and types in some notes.  “Even, it seems like you need a brain doctor, someone to talk to you.  I’m not able to do that, but I can give you a name.”

“Oh, no.  No, I don’t want a name.  I … have a someone.”

She looks him over again, her eyes seeming to take in the way he’s sitting and the tone of his voice as he speaks.

“It’s not working out for you?”

“No,” Even says.  “She’s not very … open minded.”

“Okay, I see.”

And Even thinks maybe she does see, at least some of it, because she smiles then, and her intense stare becomes a little more warm.  There’s something gentle in her eyes.

“Let me tell you a story, Even.  You don’t mind a story?”

He shakes his head, breathless, wondering what she might have to say.  There’s a pressure surrounding him, and Even thinks he might implode if it doesn’t lessen soon.

“Okay.  You see, the thing with people is that we all have a door in our head.  That’s our nature, you understand?  A personality.  The thing that makes us who we are.  You see my point?”

“No?” Even says, uncertain.  That wasn’t exactly a story and it didn’t really have a meaning that he can decipher.

“Hmmm, okay.  Well, behind that door that we call nature is another door.  And that door is all the things we’ve been taught.  From our teachers and our parents and the guy at the shop or the person giving you a coffee.  That door is very hard to open, but it’s critical.  You understand?”

Even still shakes his head, but there is a glimmer of something.  There’s something in what she says that’s trying to connect with Even’s own perceptions of the world but he can’t quite grasp it.

“Mmmm, okay.  My point, Even, is that you should talk to someone who isn’t the someone you’re already talking to.”

“Yes?  I want to, but I don’t--”

“Oh.  So.  This is a number, okay.  You can call this number and you will find another someone.  Maybe better maybe worse.  Who knows.  The only thing is to try, mmm?”  

“Mmmm,” Even finds himself agreeing.

He leaves the office, unsure if he feels better or not, but with a newfound idea of what might be happening.  Isak is waiting for him outside, panting.  Even grins.

“Did you actually run?” he asks.

Isak shakes his head.  “No.  I walked very fast.  I’m the master of walking, remember.”

Just because he can, Even reaches out a hand and runs it down Isak’s arm.  The look Isak turns on him is so intense Even can feel his heart beating faster just seeing it.  It’s getting harder and harder to resist the urge to just pull Isak in and kiss him.  But the fear still sits there and Even still feels the clutch of ice through his veins when he thinks about other people seeing.  So he contents himself with their usual press of fingertips together and holds it for maybe a beat longer than usual.

“How’d it go?” Isak asks when they get a little farther away.

“Good, it was good.  She’s a bit odd, but I think she might be onto something.”

Isak laughs.  “She’s fucking weird, but she says some things that shouldn’t make sense but they do.”

“She said what you did,” Even says, crinkling his eyes at Isak.  “That I should get a new therapist who’s not-shit.”

“She said not-shit?”

“No, you dork.  You’re the only one who comes up with crap like that.”  He grins at Isak’s affronted glare.  “But that’s what she meant.  And she also said something about doors and parts of who we are or some shit, but it was basically about getting someone not-shit.”

“Yessss!” Isak crows.  “I’m so wise.”

They’re close enough to home now that Even decides to risk it.  And since when did Even start seeing Isak’s house as ‘home’? His parents tolerate him staying here but they still clearly see his home as their place.  He stops and pulls Isak around to face him.

“You are,” he says, “you’re the wisest person I know.  The best person I know.”

Isak’s eyes go soft, there’s something in them that looks like astonishment and Even kisses him.  To make the point, to emphasize the intensity of his thoughts.  To let Isak know without words how much he is loved.  Because Isak should always be told how much he’s loved.  It’s criminal that he doubts it, and Even needs to show him with everything he has every day for the rest of time.

It’s a small kiss, but it kindles something inside Even, and he sees an answering spark in Isak’s eyes.  So they quicken their pace and hasten back to the Kollectiv.  Thankfully there’s no-one in the common areas, so they can move directly to the bedroom.

Isak leans against the door and watches Even with hooded eyes as he makes his way to the bed and sits down. It’s unnerving to be the subject of that intensity and so Even stares at the floor, unsure why he’s being scrutinized so carefully, and starting to squirm under that attention.

“Even?” Isak says, and there’s something in his voice that makes Even’s head snap up.  It’s a hint of anxiety wrapped into something cautious and wary.  Isak’s fingers are tapping a nervous rhythm on his leg and he’s not meeting Even’s eyes.

“Mmm?” Even asks, trying to keep his own voice as still and calm as he can.   _ It’s over, he hates me, the sex was bad now that I’m not manic _ … the words all flood his brain and Even grits his teeth trying to force them away.  

“I … uh.  I wanted to ask you something,” Isak says as he crosses the room and sits down next to Even.  He’s perched right on the edge as if poised for flight.  His eyes flit up to Even’s and Even can see the desperation in them, the fear.

“Baby, you can ask me anything.  You know that, right?”

Isak takes a deep breath and nods.  He lets the breath out slowly and forces himself to look up so he can see Even.  The effort it costs him is clear in his trembling hands and the way the eyes still flicker as if he wants to pull his gaze away.

“Why won’t you have sex with me?” 

The words rush out, piling one on top of each other so that Even can barely make them out.  Even huffs out one startled laugh, then looks at Isak’s face and swallows.  He takes hold of Isak’s hands, trying to still their frantic movements and maybe soothe Isak himself somehow.

“We … we do have sex?  Like, a lot?”

Isak huffs, himself, and rolls his eyes, but his body is still tense and he’s still perched on the edge of the bed as if he might cut and run at any moment.

“I know that.  Don’t be an asshole.  You  _ know _ what I mean.”

And yeah, Even kind of does and the words are making his insides freeze because it’s here now, open and ugly.  He’s known this was coming since the day Isak mentioned wanting Even’s dick.  But he’s scared.  Terrified.  The problem is … Isak doesn’t know any of that because Even’s never had the guts to tell him.  But right now, he’s hurting and feeling unwanted and Even can’t stand it.  This is on him;  _ he’s _ done this to Isak and now he has to fix it.

“First of all, baby, that’s not the only way to have sex.  You know that, right?”

“Fuck you.  I just wanted …”

There are tears in those eyes now, and a pained sadness in the voice, and Even can’t put it off any longer, can’t leave Isak thinking it’s his fault.  He blurts it out.

“I’m scared.  Fucking terrified of being the Beast and hurting you.”

“You’re scared …”

Even’s own hands are shaking now and he nods.  “So fucking scared.  I don’t know if you know much about the way it is for Beasts during sex.”

“Only what …” Isak blushes a little, “only what we already did.”

“Well …” and Even finds himself being the one to look away this time; he can’t bring himself to see Isak’s eyes as he explains this shitty side of who he is.  “Well, we … uh, we get really aggressive.  The Beauties, they like it … uh … heavy.  Rough, I guess.  They like to be dominated and we … we tend to get very aggressive.”

He looks up quickly to see the effects of his words.  Isak blinks at him.   _ “You _ get aggressive?” he asks eventually.

“Yeah.  I do.  I hate it, but the instinct kicks in and I kind of do.  Not as much as some Beasts, but it’s not … it’s not very loving.”

“But … you just said what we already do is sex.”

That brings Even up short.  He’s never thought of it like that.

“I … yeah,” he acknowledges.  “Yeah it is.”

“You’ve never been aggressive.  Ever.”

“I’m just worried it’ll be different.”

Even sees the moment when the brain in front of him starts to whir, the moment it moves from the stressed and anxious  _ he doesn’t want me _ to the analytical  _ what’s the science here? _ Even sees it and his heart doubles in size.  He loves this boy so much he can’t stand it.

“Why would it be different?” Isak asks, and Even opens his mouth to speak.  Isak shushes him with one hand.  “It’s about hormones and release, right?  Well, probably.”  He stops and ponders for a moment, then nods.  “I think we can assume that; it’s a good working hypothesis anyway.  So, if that’s the case then you’ve had a lot of hormones and a lot of release and no aggression.  Right?”

Even nods, entertained.  Isak’s hands are flying and his body is leaning forward, not to run away now but to impress the point on Even.  His face is animated, eyes fixed on Even as he explains.  It’s … really fucking sexy.

“So, the only difference is where your dick happens to be when it all happens and honestly, Even … scientifically, that’s not likely to be important.”

“Scientifically?”

“Mmmmhmmm.”  Isak nods again, firmly.  Making his point and underlining it.  “Can I ask something personal?”

“Of course you can, always.”

“Did you like it when you were … aggressive?”

“No, I didn’t.  I hated it.”

Isak sits back, beaming.  “There you are then.  Proven with science.”

“How exactly does that prove anything?”

“I don’t know, Even.  It just does.” The voice is petulant, but there’s a teasing note there too as he continues.  “You don’t like it, it never happens when we’re together, and scientifically that’s not likely to change … so, you know … science.  Proven.”

Even laughs and pulls Isak into him for a kiss.  He’s just too sexy like this, cocky and sure of himself and willing to stand up to Even.

“You can’t know for sure, though,” he says as he pulls back.

“No,” Isak says.  “But neither can you.  So … I say we try it and if you feel like it’s getting out of hand … well, then we stop.  No harm done.”

He’s so sure about it, but Even is still torn.  It sounds great in theory, yeah.  But what if he’s tipped over and can’t stop?  What if he genuinely does get pulled in by his instincts and ends up hurting Isak?  What if …

He’s interrupted by a laugh.  “Stop overthinking, Even.  I want to do this, I want you to do this and I trust you.  Okay?  I  _ trust _ you.”

The words are there again, brimming on Even’s tongue but he still can’t quite say them.  His heart is so full of love, but it’s still so fragile that he can’t let it out.  Not yet.  But what he can do is give Isak this one thing, accept the trust he’s giving Even.  So he takes a breath and he nods.

“Okay.  But you have to say if it gets too … much.”

“I will, baby, I promise.  But it won’t, I’m sure of it.”

He scrambles back so he’s fully on the bed then crawls towards Even with a purposeful look in his eye.  Before Even can really register what’s happening, he has a lapful of Isak and a bruising kiss on his lips.  He’s being pressed back onto the bed and Isak is taking charge and … oh.  That’s kind of hot, actually.  Isak’s hands are in his hair and his legs are clamped either side of Even’s hips so he can’t move.  He lets himself give into it, lets the desire build.  Isak’s hard already, his cock nudging Even’s thigh and making his own twitch.  He groans and feels rather than hears Isak’s answering moan.

“I want your dick in me.  Today.  Is that okay?” Isak asks, his lips hovering so close to Even’s own that he can feel the words as individual breaths.  He nods, his own breath coming in short pants.

“Yeah,” he says.  “That’s … that’s okay.”

He’s still anxious, worried that it’ll all go wrong but it comes out in a heightened awareness of every moment.  Each kiss registers in every corner of his body, every movement elicits a gasp and every piece of clothing removed makes him shudder with need.  Soon, they’re both naked and it’s getting real.  The fear threatens him again, but then Isak sits back on Even’s thighs and smirks down at him.  He’s panting, and the way his chest rises and falls, and his abs move with it and his cock bounces draws a moaning gasp from Even.  This might be the worst idea they’ve ever had, but Even needs this now, he needs Isak’s hands on his body.  He wriggles a little and watches as Isak’s eyes take on a gleam of lust.  His dick throbs, aching for a release, and as Even takes stock of the way he’s feeling, he’s relieved that there’s no sign of the Beast at all.  He doesn’t even need to control it; it’s just not there.

Then Isak leans down, as if he knows this is what Even needs, and kisses him again.  It grounds Even, reminds him that he never used to get this.  Sex was so often pragmatic and a means to an end, and Sonja didn’t like kissing while they were having sex.  The Beast isn’t stirring, so Even allows himself to be as romantic as he’s always wanted to.  He sits up, pushing Isak back a little on his legs, so he can wrap his arms around this boy and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until neither can take it anymore.  

“Please,” Isak begs, and how can any man say no to that?

Even rolls them so Isak is on his back, then reaches for the lube.  Scrabbling in the drawer where they keep it, Even’s fingers hit on an unfamiliar box.  He stills and looks over at Isak.

“You’ve been planning this?”

Isak blushes, a rosy color high on his cheeks, and he shakes his head.

“Not planning, exactly.  Just maybe … wanting it, and wanting to be prepared.”

“I fucking love you,” Even says, then freezes as he realizes what he’s said.  Isak gasps, his eyes going wide.

“Say it again,” he says, his voice soft and awed.  As anxious as he is, Even can’t deny the call of that voice.

“I love you,” he says and watches the boy beneath him start to glow.  He lights up from the inside as if he’s going to supernova.  It’s breathtaking to watch, and to know that it’s Even’s words that have done that.  Even can’t contain the smile that blooms on his face, and watches in adoration as Isak gives an answering smile.

“No-one’s ever said that to me before,” Isak says, his voice wobbling with emotion even while he’s smiling.  

“Oh, baby.  You deserve to hear it every day.”

Even leans back down and kisses him, the condom he’s pulled from the box clutched in one hand and the lube in the other.  It should be stupid, it should seem silly and ridiculous.  To finally say those words he’s been hoarding as if they’re going to do harm to one of them somehow while he’s naked and achingly hard.  But it doesn’t.  It feels real and raw and perfect.  Even doesn’t know why he’s never said it before.  The feel of those words is so natural on his tongue; why did he try to hide them?

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I love you too.”

Isak’s whisper sends warmth rushing through Even, and something he didn’t know was there stops crushing his chest.  In all his thoughts he’d never considered that Isak could feel the same way.  Tears prick behind his eyelids and he has to blink them away.  

“Really?”

“Really.”

They kiss again, then Even sits back.  The love he’s allowing himself to finally show without reservation makes him feel like he’s flying, delirious with the joy he’s feeling.  He smiles, still unable to do anything else, and gets the most beautiful smile in the world back.  He raises his eyebrow and Isak nods.  

There’s so much love in his eyes that Even can’t quite believe he never saw it there before.  He slides down the bed until he’s in position between Isak’s legs.

The snap of the bottle is loud in the room and Isak giggles a little.  They’re both a little giddy, then, Even thinks in delight as he presses a kiss to the inside of Isak’s thigh just to hear that giggle again.  He pours a little lube on his fingers and rubs to warm them up.  Isak has his legs propped the way they both know he likes it, and Even smiles.  There’s a small spike of anxiety when he thinks about where this is leading, but this is familiar.  This makes sense and he knows this.  He admires Isak’s body as he gently circles him with one finger, then looks up and into his eyes as he presses the finger inside.  Even’s always loved this part, the way Isak gasps at the first intrusion, the way his hips push towards Even’s finger as if he’s trying to get more, the way his eyes darken as they hold their gazes through it.

Normally, Even takes his time.  Normally this is the point, but today he works as quickly as he can.  Soon Isak is writhing and Even has three fingers inside, brushing his prostate with every movement.  Isak’s begging Even, wants him to use his dick now, the words pouring out in babbled nonsense that nevertheless makes it clear what he wants.  Even takes a breath, deep and unsure, and looks at Isak again.  He’s gazing at Even with so much love and trust in his eyes that Even can feel the spike of anxiety that hit him ebbing a little.

“I’ll let you know, baby, I promise,” Isak whispers, and that’s enough.

Even rolls the condom on with a practiced movement, adds a lot more lube, then positions himself at Isak’s entrance.  Holding Isak’s gaze for reassurance, Even pushes in as slowly as he can.  It’s not the same as it was with Sonja; it’s tighter and has a different feeling.  It’s a small relief to Even, that he can separate it.  If it’s different, maybe it will be okay, maybe he can control himself.  It's good, this feeling, but he can’t allow himself to focus on _how_ good it is, not until he’s sure Isak is okay and it’s all going to be fine.  Isak is wincing a little, and his hands are clenched tight in the sheets.  Even stops and closes his eyes, both to allow Isak time to adjust and to take stock of his own body.  There’s still no Beast, no desire to let go and take what he wants with no regard for the person he’s with.  He sighs in relief and opens his eyes to look up and see how Isak is.

He’s smiling, his eyes on Even’s and a smirk on his face.  “You can go more,” he says.  “I’m ready.”

So Even nods and pushes in again.  It feels like an eternity before he’s fully inside and Isak has wrapped his legs around Even’s back.  Now that he’s here in the moment, Even can’t believe just how amazing this feels.  Their bodies are connected in pretty much every way possible, and Even feels every inch of that connection in his bones, in his veins, in the fire of his skin.  They’re both breathing heavily as they pause for a moment.  Even’s close enough now to kiss Isak, so he does because he can.  Because Isak won’t tell him off, because Isak wants him to.  The movement presses him a little further inside and Isak gasps suddenly, his eyes widening just before their lips connect.

“Fuck,” he breathes against Even’s mouth.  “Even, _fuck.”_

“Good?” Even asks, uncertain, and Isak nods.  His hands are buried in Even’s hair and his legs are still holding Even in place as if he’s afraid he’ll stop now.

“So good,” Isak breathes, kissing him again.  “Move.  Please.”

So Even does, slowly and carefully, and it’s actually everything he’s ever wanted.  It’s slow and perfect, they rock together and there are kisses, so many kisses that Even’s breathless with them.  He ends up with his face tucked into Isak’s neck, pressing kisses there with every thrust, and he can feel the tremors of Isak’s body as he gets close to his release, the grasping of his hands in Even’s hair.  Even can hear his gasping breaths as Isak says his name over and over, he can feel Isak’s cock trapped between them reacting to the friction as it finally lets go, spurting over both of them as Even’s own body tenses.  It’s one or two or maybe five thrusts later and Even’s crying out, unable to contain his own voice as he comes, hard, and Isak’s hands soothe him through the aftermath as his oversensitive body returns him to himself.

He lies there, breathing hard, but sated and happy.  Eventually, he remembers the condom and realizes he has to move.  Isak whimpers a little as he does so, but Even kisses him through it and soon he’s out and the condom is in the bin and they’re snuggled together.

“See,” Isak says in a smug tone.  “Science.”

“Okay, baby,” Even says.  “You win this one.”

Isak rolls over onto his stomach, propping his head on his hands against Even’s chest, so he can look into Even’s eyes.  He asks, his voice serious, “it was okay though?”

“More than okay, baby.  It was great.”

“No, but I mean … no Beast?”

Even shakes his head.  “Nope, no Beast.  At all.  Didn’t even have to control it; it never showed up.”

“I’m glad,” Isak says now as he props his leg over Even’s in his usual way and drops his head back onto Even’s chest.  “I want to do that again.”

Laughing, Even kisses his hair.  “Whenever you like.”

“I meant it, you know,” Isak says sleepily.  It’s not late but he always gets like this afterwards, soft and cuddly and sleepy and Even loves this Isak.  He’s relaxed and at ease in a way he doesn’t often allow himself to be.

“Meant what?”

“That I love you.  It wasn’t a sex thing.”

Even laughs again and kisses Isak’s hair.  “I know,” he says.  “Me, too.”

It’s still a thing of wonder to Even that Isak feels the same way.  It feels like something precious he’s been handed that he has to take care of.  But it also feels like something he can do, easily.  Loving Isak is the easiest thing in the world, and Even’s prepared to do it forever.


	8. Chapter 8

This is all normal now, routine.  Even blinks awake, his eyes becoming accustomed to the light.  It’s not as bright today, since the days are getting shorter, and the mornings are dimmer.  The light streaming into the room is duller, making the orange from the disgusting blanket over the window less vibrant as it plays over Even’s eyelids.  As seasons slide one into another Even has a normal routine for the first time in a long while, and yet it’s still breathtaking.  Isak lies on Even’s chest, his cheek pressed almost uncomfortably into his ribcage and his mouth slightly ajar.  It’s been weeks, they wake like this most mornings, and yet Even’s heart still stutters as Isak snuffles and his eyelids flutter as he makes his way towards consciousness.  Even’s not sure how he’d cope if he was asked to sleep without Isak.  It’s slightly too hot pressed together like this, and there’s discomfort.  Even needs to pee but has a knee shoved between his legs so he can’t move.  And yet.  And yet … Even wouldn’t change this for anything.  There’s nothing better than being newly awake as Isak slowly grumbles his way into the waking world.  Because this is real and imperfect and it’s theirs.  They do this almost every morning and it settles something in Even.  

Before, there was a fear that everything could come crashing down, that Even needed to do and be things other than himself to keep his life the way it was.  Sonja would either not stay overnight _(you’re bony, Even, and you move too much, so it’s better to sleep apart)_ or she’d try to turn Even into someone she approved of.  Someone who sleeps on his own side of the bed, perfectly still.  Someone who doesn’t find it endlessly amusing to tickle his partner into his arms before kissing them breathless.  Someone who’s mature and acts and reacts in a way that she deemed correct.  Someone who sleeps at appropriate hours for an acceptable length of time.  Someone, basically, who’s absolutely not Even.

Now, though.  Now, Even can be as stupid as he likes.  Isak’s reaction to Even’s sillier behaviour is either rolled eyes and an exasperated grin which nevertheless holds enormous fondness or it’s uncontrollable giggles as he gives in to whatever game Even has decided to play on any given day.  It’s silliness and fun, it’s laughter and it’s weird uncomfortable nights.  It’s an acceptance that sometimes sleep isn’t regular or planned.  It’s lying awake together or with one or the other of them uncomfortable on the other’s shoulder as he gets much needed naps.  It’s being allowed to kiss and hug and love and show affection whenever and wherever.  

“Fuck,” Isak whines, drawing Even out of his thoughts as he tilts his head a little and stretches himself into wakefulness.  “I don’t want to be up.”

“Mmmm,” agrees Even.  But it’s not entirely true.  He loves these times, the moments when it’s still early and they have somewhere to be but they don’t have to be there for a few hours.  

“I've been thinking,” Isak says now.  His voice is still fuzzy with sleep, but he sounds serious.  There’s another long stretch before Isak ends up leaning against Even with his eyes half-lidded and a sleepy pout on his lips.

“At this time of day?  That’s ambitious,” Even says, bracing himself for the inevitable shove and, “fuck off, asshole,” this sort of response always generates.  Even relents, grinning.

“About what?” he asks.

“Well, Sana invited me … or us really, to a party this Friday and I think it’s the same one your … your … uh, Mikael invited you to that time.”

“Oh,” Even says.  He wants to say more but he can’t.  There’s too much in there.  His skin is suddenly stretched tight over his bones as he contemplates all the possible meanings in this one seemingly tiny event.

Isak settles himself more closely on Even’s chest, grounding him with firm, sure fingers pressing against his heart as if he knows how difficult this is to hear.

“I’m not sure … but I feel like maybe they’re all trying to make a point,” Isak says.  The sleepiness has left his voice and Even knows this must have been weighing on him for it to be the first thing he talks about this morning.  The thought does nothing to ease his nerves.

“And that is?”

“That they’re keen to see you again.”  Isak pauses for a moment then laughs a little.  “And that Sana is scary and she’s never going to get off my ass about it.”

Even’s silent, thinking.  He knows.  The universe keeps insisting that he see these people, and deal with these people.  It’s like it got its claws into him that first night with Elias and now it’s never dropping him until it forces him to face up to it.  He sighs, tries to push the thoughts away, but they keep intruding.

Isak shifts a little so he’s lying with his head pillowed on his hands and can look up into Even’s eyes.

“We don’t have to go,” he says, seriously.  “There’s no, like, timeline here.”

“I know,” Even says.  “But I think I should.  Maybe not the party right away.  But I should talk to them.  Explain …”

He trails off, his heart beating faster.  It’s a big idea and one he’s not really all that excited to explore.  But he also can’t keep on like this, with his fear swamping him every time he sees the boys or hears about them.  They want to see him, they clearly don’t hate him and maybe … maybe it’d be good for Even himself.  Closure of sorts.  He’s good at running, Even is.  Maybe he should try to get good at stopping and turning back and facing his issues square in the eye.

Isak knows.  Of course he does.  He’s been there when Even’s seen these guys, he’s observant enough to have noticed the way Even has reacted, and he’s held Even when he’s shaken in fear and distress in the aftermath.  So right now he nods, his hands running in soothing circles on Even’s chest and his eyes soft as he looks at Even.

“Whatever you want, baby.  I’ll be here, whatever you decide.”

And that, Even thinks, is exactly what he loves about Isak.  The acceptance, the lack of judgement, the unquestioning support.  He leans down to kiss Isak and receives an enthusiastic hum in return.  They kiss until they’re both panting and breathless, hard and gasping and Even, at least, is aching where they are pressed together.  Even reluctantly draws back with a loud sigh.

“We have to get up,” he says.

“Noooo,” Isak says, his voice close to a whine.  “I’d rather stay here.  There are so many more fun things we could do here,” he mumbles trying to burrow back into the blankets, and pulling Even to make him come too.  He’s pressing himself against Even in a way that usually works to distract him.  Even lets himself fall a little, and kisses Isak again, knowing why he’s so reluctant, but he can’t afford to give in this time.  Not when it’s so important.  

“Baby.  I promise I won’t let my parents get to you.”

Isak groans, and this time the sound is tired and unhappy rather than turned on.  “They hate me,” he says.

“They really don’t,” Even says, pulling Isak close and holding him tight.  This has been a source of tension for Isak for a long time, but he’s only recently started mentioning his worries.  Even sees it as progress and a sign of his trust, but it still hurts him to see Isak this way.  So he deals with it the only way he knows how.  He tries to ease Isak’s fears with his love.  “And anyway,” he adds, “their thoughts don’t matter.  I love you and nothing they say can change it.”

It takes time, but Even finally manages to chivvy Isak out of bed and into his clothes (his best clothes because apparently he isn’t going to face Even’s parents in what he’d normally wear.)  

By the time they’re on the tram and heading to Even’s family home, Isak is visibly shaking.  His hands are tucked up under his armpits and his lips are clamped together.  He’s white, his eyes huge dark smudges in his pale face.  Even pokes him in the ribs, trying to make him squirm from the ticklish sensation, knows this is the best place to attack to provoke a reaction.  But instead of his usual giggle or even a reluctant smile, Isak scowls and curls even tighter into his ball.

Even’s heart lurches.  He moves in as close as he dares and whispers, “we don’t have to go.  I’ll text and say something came up.”

But Isak shakes his head.  Despite still looking like he’s going to his own execution, he growls.  “No.  I’m not letting this stop me,” he says and Even can’t help the surge of the protective instinct he feels at the words.

Uncaring if they’re seen, because Isak is the only important thing right now, Even pulls him into his chest and wraps his arms around him.  Isak stays stiff for a few moments, clearly concerned about how public they are, but he soon melts into the embrace.  Even lets his lips brush the top of Isak’s hair as he holds him.  It baffles him that his parents can look at this boy, this beautiful person, and not be in love too.

They arrive at their stop, and as they leave the tram Even takes firm hold of Isak’s hand.  Come what may, regardless of who might see them, Even’s going to be here for Isak every step of the way.  Isak glances at him, a grateful smile curving onto his lips and his eyes losing some of their haunted appearance.

There’s a brief, surreal moment where Even thinks about ringing the doorbell, but then he shakes his head in amused irritation at himself and lets them in.  Isak carefully removes his shoes, placing them neatly at the end of the line of Even’s parents’ shoes.  He’s so clearly stalling, his actions so slow and deliberate, that Even pulls him in for a light peck on the lips.

“I love you, and I’ve got you,” he whispers.  “Remember that.”

Isak flushes, a charming pink rising in his cheeks as he looks at Even.  He swallows and nods, taking Even’s hand in his and trying to smile naturally.  They kiss again, this time slower and more lingering.  Even doesn’t care whether they’re seen; his only concern right now is making Isak feel more at ease.  It seems to be working, as Isak is relaxing and there’s a small smile as they separate a little.

“There you are!” Even’s mother bustles out from the kitchen, a warm smile on her face and the scent of spiced muffins and coffee following her.  Isak springs back from Even, acting like a teen caught in some unspeakable act, and Even laughs.  He keeps a hand on Isak’s shoulder as his mother approaches.

She pulls Even into a hug and smiles, a beaming welcome, then she steps back and turns her attention to Isak, holding her hand out to shake his with a smile still warm on her face.  Isak’s standing in shock staring at her.  It’s so different to what he’s been used to that Even doesn’t blame him.  He just sidles in closer and wraps an arm around Isak as he takes her hand.

She leads them into the kitchen and seats them at the table with cups of coffee each, then places a plate of steaming muffins down too.  Even takes a sip of his coffee and is amused to note that she’s forgotten the caramel that Sonja always used to put in.  Isak smirks beside him as he catches the tiny twist of Even’s lips at the bitter taste, a tiny indication that he’s feeling a little better.  Even can almost hear his smug thought, _I would have remembered,_ and he grins at Isak.  

It’s clear Isak isn’t sure what’s going on here either, so they have a complicated conversation with their eyebrows.  Even’s twitch up in a query: _what is she doing?_ and Isak’s indicate _I have no fucking idea,_ in answer to which Even uses his to direct his attention to the bathroom.  Isak rolls his eyes which makes Even snort a little before glancing quickly at his mother.  Her attention is elsewhere; she’s buttering the muffins and placing them onto plates for each of them.  He takes the opportunity to tilt his head suggesting that Isak leave the room for a while. Eventually, Isak huffs in amused irritation and excuses himself to the bathroom.

Even immediately turns to his mother.  He knows he doesn’t have long.  “What are you doing?” he hisses, and she looks at him, startled, as she hands over one of the muffins.

“I’m welcoming my son and his boyfriend to my house.”

“Mamma, I’m sure you mean well, but … you’ve been so distant and …” he waves his hand around, trying to indicate the idea of ‘aggressive asshole’ without actually saying those words to his mother.  His mother, who is a Beast too and will most likely not respond well to the implication.

She sighs, picks up her coffee and nods.  “I know,” she says.  “But I’ve been thinking and I guess it’s …” she shrugs, keeping her eyes away from his, and she’s filled with a tension that hadn’t been there when they arrived, her body looking small and more vulnerable than Even’s ever seen it before. “... I guess I figured I really don’t want to lose you.  And this … this thing isn’t going away, is it?  So.”  She finally looks at him before taking a deep breath.  “So, I need to try to understand it.”

Even laughs, mirthlessly.  “Pappa been talking to you, huh?”

“No.  I mean, yes, a little.  But he’s struggling too.  It’s not … it’s not easy, Even.”

He relents a little, reaches over to pat her arm and smile at her.  “I know.  And, thank you.  For trying.”

Isak returns now, his eyes drifting directly to Even and raising his brows in query.  Even smiles encouragingly and reaches out a hand to him.  Isak slides into the seat next to him, his body still a little curled up, his demeanor still one of someone who wants to cut and run, but he picks up his coffee and takes a sip.

Even’s mother is watching, her eyes misty as she looks between them and Even is uncomfortably aware that she’s judging.  But there’s something new there too, under it all.  He senses her beastly curiosity.  It doesn’t help.  Isak is still tense, and Even doubts this newly welcoming mother is going to get through any time soon.  Still, even with Isak sending out waves of stress that sit in Even’s bones as he feels them rushing over him, it’s comforting to know that his family is trying.  

“You’re not concerned about all this?” Even’s mother says finally, after she’s exhausted her small talk.

Even pretends not to understand what she’s talking about, and quirks an eyebrow at her.  “All this?” he asks.

She shrugs, looking uncomfortable.  “Not having a Beauty.  Isn’t it … hard?”

Beside Even, Isak shuffles in his chair.  Even can feel his eyes on him and he flushes.  “At first it was, yeah,” he says, unwilling to lie to his mother.  “But it’s easier now.  The … the rages don’t come so often.”  He takes Isak’s hand and squeezes it as he looks earnestly at his mother.  “And I feel more settled if I’m with him anyway.  It’s not as hard to … to keep myself chill.”

“Hmm,” she says, looking from one to the other.  “That seems very unbelieveable.”

Isak’s hand grips Even’s, hard, and Even almost winces at the strength in that grasp.  He can feels his own hackles rising, for the first time in a long while, but he grits his teeth, closes his eyes to focus and manages to calm himself into a smile within seconds.  Isak’s grip has changed and the eyes Even feels on him now are concerned, and there’s another hand now, this one on Even’s knee.  It’s rubbing comforting circles and Even sighs out his appreciation as he opens his eyes and looks over at his mother.

Her eyes are alight and she has her head cocked to the side.  “You weren’t lying,” she says now in an awed whisper.  “Are you sure he isn’t a Beauty?”

Isak scowls.  “I am not.  I never have been, and I never will be.”  His chin is tilted defiantly and he’s sitting forward glaring at her.  Even remembers the first day he spoke to Sana about Isak and how she told him Isak was proud of being an Outcast.  It appears that was nothing but the truth.

“Interesting,” his mother says now.  “That was almost like a Beauty’s effect.”

Even nods.  “Yeah.  It _is_ interesting, isn’t it.”  He refrains from reminding her that he always wondered if this was possible.  He’s not that much of an asshole, though there are some moments where he wishes he was.  If he wasn’t so concerned about protecting his mother’s feelings, Even might just tell her how much he’d suffered just because she was convinced he’d have the same effects as she did when she was Beauty-less.  He lets the bitterness bleed into his tone, though, and she has the grace to look chastened.

Isak jumps in, now, and he turns the conversation onto safer lines.  Even’s mother gratefully takes up the slack and together they manage to make their way through the rest of the visit.  It’s still a little tense, and Even’s mother is still slightly wary, but there’s a definite thawing.  When Even’s father arrives, the mood becomes almost pleasant despite the irritable undercurrents still floating between them all.  By the time they leave, Isak is actually smiling naturally, his head thrown back and his eyes bright with mirth.  He’s even comfortable enough to crack a few small jokes with Even’s father, though he’s still uncomfortable with his mother.

As the door closes behind them, Even’s father winks at him and Even feels his heart expanding.  It’s not perfect, they’re not best friends, but his parents care enough to try and Isak is happy, his head resting on Even’s shoulder and a soft sigh on his lips as they walk towards the tram.

“That was okay,” Isak says.

Even nods, hearing all the unspoken words, all the worries he’s not been able to articulate, all the relief that’s pouring off Isak now.  

“Yeah it was,” he says.  “Now let’s go home.”

 

A couple of days later, Even is the one stressing out.  He’d decided that he shouldn’t let his fears get to him.  Back when he’d decided, in bed with Isak, it had all felt so simple.  He would text his old friends, they’d meet up, there’d be some sort of deep conversation and then Even would feel closure and relief and all the things he’s been taught will make him feel better.  Unfortunately, Even had forgotten the one big problem: he is going to have to actually face them, he is going to have to own up to what he did, he is going to have to talk about it.  The thought leaves him shuddering and needing to draw in several deep breaths just to keep on an even keel.

He’s sitting on the edge of Isak’s bed, the school day is over, Isak is in the kitchen getting a drink, and Even is determined.  He’s going to do this.  He’s also shaking, the phone in his hands a blur as it moves with the trembling in his fingers.  Even puts it down for a moment in an attempt to relax, forces his hands under his knees to settle them and then blows out his breath as evenly as he can.  He grabs the phone again, quickly thumbs up Elias’s number and can just make out the words he sends.

_Hey bro.  You want to meet up sometime?_

As soon as the message flicks away, Even throws himself back onto the bed in a panic.  That was the worst idea he’s ever had and everything is going to come crashing down right this second.  Even can’t even bring himself to look at his phone when he hears the tiny ping as an incoming message lights up the screen.

“Baby, are you going to answer that?” Isak asks as he comes back into the room.

“No.  Uh-uh.  Not happening,” Even says.  

He’s hiding his eyes behind his hands, and peeks at Isak with a grin, trying to make it seem like a joke, but Isak is too astute.  He slides onto the bed next to Even and lays a comforting hand on his leg.  

“You know it’s not going to be that bad?”

“I know no such thing.  It could be worse!  Isak, they could actually want to meet with me!”

Even knows he’s being over dramatic, but he’s deflecting and it kind of works.  Isak grins, giving Even’s knee a pat.  “We talked about this.  You meet one of them, the easiest one, you have a short conversation and then you come home.  Easy.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Even protests, glaring.  “You don’t have to face your past, watch it come back to haunt you, then suffer as you learn and grow from it.”

Isak kisses him, climbing into his lap so he’s straddling Even and grins down at him.  “Baby.  I promise.  This isn’t a movie, and you don’t have to learn anything from this.  It’ll be fine.”

Even grimaces.  He knows Isak is right, but he’s still anxious, can feel it crawling in his belly along with the signs of the Beast rising within him too.  It’s sitting close under his skin now, not the rage but the fear, the desire to lash out at someone to protect himself.  The part that Even’s always felt the most ashamed of.  He swallows.  Looks up at Isak and the phone he’s holding out and groans.

“Fuck it.”

He take the phone from Isak, flicks it on again and reads the message.

_Always.  Anytime.  Just say when and where._

Even glances up and into Isak’s eyes.  He smiles encouragingly.  It takes a few seconds before Even can bring himself to answer, and when he does he panics.  He can’t do this.  The only thing keeping Even grounded right now is the weight of Isak on his lap.  He looks at the words he sent, feeling a shaft of fear as he reads them over.

_What’re you doing now?  KB?_

The answer when it comes is enthusiastic but Even feels sick.  Why did he agree to this?  He’s shaking again and as he takes stock of his body he realises that every muscle he owns is clenched tight in an instinctive flight response.  Even forces himself to relax, but it’s hard.  The muscles resist him, wanting to seize up again every time he allows a thought about seeing Elias to flit into his mind.

“Do you want me to come?” Isak asks now, and Even’s first thought is _fuck yes, please.  Save me from this hell._  But there’s a selfish part of him that doesn’t want Isak to see just how badly he fucked up.  Not yet.  Isak knows something happened at Bakka, knows something caused Even to turn his back on his friends, but he hasn’t heard exactly what happened.  Until Even knows what attitude Elias is going to have, he doesn’t want to risk Isak being there.  So he shakes his head and smiles, trying to dampen the hot bubbles of fear that are boiling through him.

“No thanks, baby.  I think … I think I should face him alone.”

Isak nods, and Even feels a stab of guilt.  He really doesn’t deserve the way Isak just accepts all this stuff.  In his place, Even would probably be consumed with curiosity and sneaking behind him to hide in a potted plant through the entire meeting.  He snorts at himself.  

Isak kisses him once more before climbing off his lap and holding a hand out to him.  Even takes it, accepting the comfort Isak is offering without question.  Isak takes his face in his hands, mirroring Even’s favourite way to kiss him, and smiles.

“You are amazing baby.  I’m so proud of you.”

He kisses Even, centering him as he does so, then sets him off with one swipe of his thumbs on Even’s cheeks and a lingering kiss to bolster him.  It gives Even enough courage to make it out the door and all the way to the cafe.

Elias is already at KB when Even arrives.  He’s sitting at a table near the front looking relaxed and cheerful.  His body is slouched back in his chair and he’s tapping his foot in time with some unheard music from the buds in his ears.  Even sighs.  His own body is still filled with a humming tension and he can feel his muscles knitting together again as he watches Elias.  For one moment Even thinks about leaving, silently dropping out of Elias’s life again the way he already did once before.  But Elias glances up and catches his eye.  The beaming grin and welcoming wave he gives are enough to quiet Even’s fears a little and he pushes the door open and makes his way to the table.

Elias clasps him softly on his arm as he sits down.  It’s a lower key welcome than the ones they used to share but it’s filled with a warmth and a care that is almost overwhelming.

“Hey,” Even says.

“Hi.”  Elias sits back a little and examines him.  It makes Even flush, his cheeks heating and an unwelcome stab of stress hitting him.  They sit in silence for a few moments.  It’s uncomfortable and Even is close to making an excuse and leaving.

“Why’d you text me?” Elias asks finally. Straightforward and right to the point.  It’s so reminiscent of the old times that Even closes his eyes, getting lost in memories for a moment.  Then he realizes he has to speak, that Elias is waiting for him with a patient, but quizzical look on his face.

“I … uh.”  Even stops and looks at Elias, then decides to be straight up with him.  “I’m tired of running away,” he admits.  “I’m scared and I don’t want to be here.  But … I need to be here.”

“Shit dude.  That’s deep.”

Even snorts.  “Fuck you.”

“No, but I really mean it.  That shit last year was intense.”

Blowing a breath out, forcefully enough to shift his hair off his forehead, Even smiles ruefully.  He shifts uneasily in his seat, the old memories making him restless.  “You could say that.”

Elias sits back, letting his eyes roam over Even’s face.  “You want to talk about it?”

By ‘it’ Even knows Elias means everything that happened last year, all the shit, all the reasons why he ditched them all and ran away.  He knows this is an offering, and if he said no Elias would accept it and they’d just go back to being friends without ever having to face it all.  It’s so tempting to agree, but Even knows he’s here because he needs to face up to everything so he sighs heavily, then nods.

“I don’t really want to, but I have to.  It’s getting to be too much.”  He grins at Elias and shrugs.  “I thought it might be easier after all this time to ignore it and put it behind me.  But it’s not.  It keeps coming back.”

Elias shrugs too.  “Okay then.  What do you want to talk about?”

And _fuck,_ this is hard.  Even has no idea where to begin.  How do you look someone in the eye and explain to them why you faded so thoroughly out of their life that you didn’t even see them for over a year?

“I ...uh.”  He looks at Elias helplessly, feeling the sadness sitting in his chest.  “I don’t know?”

Laughing, Elias punches his arm.  “You always did like to make everyone else do all the work.”

“Fuck you.  I did my share!”

They’re laughing now.  It’s a pale imitation of the way it used to be before Even ruined it all, but it’s enough to poke a hole in the stiff air that’s hovered around them since Even arrived, and he’s smiling much more naturally as Elias lets his laughter die down.

“Okay,” Elias says, sobering finally.  “I guess the biggest thing I wanted to know is … well, _we_ just really want to know...”  He looks at Even, his eyes serious and concerned.  “Why did you cut us off?  We wanted to help.”

Blushing, Even lets his eyes drift.  It’s too hard to say this stuff while looking at his old friend, so he takes in the way the customer at the counter is flirting with the employee.  Her eyes are wide and she’s ducked her head to look up at the guy, her smile open and delighted.  It’s such a banal, normal sight that it settles Even a little.  He turns his attention back to Elias, who’s waiting patiently for a response, though he still can’t bring himself to look at him.

“I … I guess I was ashamed.”

He chances a look up at Elias and sees him gaping, shock warring with sadness and even anger on his face.”

“You were ashamed?”

“Yeah.  I fucked so much up.  Mikael …” Even blushes again, remembering that day.  “Yousef.  Just … I couldn’t deal with it.  Not once I’d … uh … calmed down.”

He can’t do it, can’t say the word ‘manic’ out loud here with someone who used to be so close to him, but he can see that Elias hears it anyway.  His mouth lurches sideways, the smile slipping for just a moment.  He pats Even’s forearm gently, and his voice is soft when he speaks.

“We didn’t care, you know that?”

Even shrugs again.  He can’t bring himself to believe that.  It’s too painful.  He shifts uneasily on his chair.  “I couldn’t bear the pity,” he whispers now.  “And I knew you would.  Pity me, I mean.  I saw it, you know.  That day with Yousef at your place, he felt it.  Pity.”  He spits the word out as if it’s poison.

“So you decided on self pity instead?”

The tone is ironic, amused, but there’s a depth behind it, a sense that he’s pushing Even into thoughts he may not have been willing to entertain on his own.  The whole idea brings Even up short.  How the fuck does Elias do that?  Get to the heart of what Even wants to say so effortlessly?  Maybe it was something to do with being a Hero.  Heroes always manage to save the day, and maybe Elias’s way of doing that is by making people truly look into themselves and figure their shit out.  It’s an uncomfortable thought and Even grimaces.

“It was easier,” he says now.  

“Jesus, Even.  That’s so messed up.”

“Yeah,” Even agrees.  He lets a small smile slip onto his lips, and flicks his eyes up towards Elias again.  “But so am I.”

Elias’s mouth twists in a scowl as he looks at Even now.  “You don’t really believe that,” he says.

“No, I don’t,” Even says, tiredly.  He has no energy to fight someone, particularly when it’s about himself and all the ways in which he fucked up.  “But some days it’s hard to remember.”

There’s silence between them for a while before Elias shakes his head and punches Even again, this time just skimming the surface on Even’s shoulder.  “You dick.  I missed you.”

Sighing, Even gives another tired smile.  “I missed you, too.”

It’s a blessing, Even thinks, that Elias has known him so well for so long (and that Sana was probably in his ear about how to handle all this), because he doesn’t press any further.  He seems to recognize that Even doesn’t have it in him to explore any of this any further right now.  The conversation moves to simpler things, like Sonja and why they broke up (though Even is careful to keep it away from the topic of archetypes, making sure he sticks to his issues about being controlled).  Or Elias’s new girlfriend, and the stupid crush he’s really sure Yousef has on Sana.

They talk for another half hour, conversation shifting easily between topics and Even’s heart is easier when he stands to leave.  

“Mikael says he told you about the party this Friday,” Elias says.

Even nods, swallowing at the thought of his oldest, best friend.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Yeah, he did.”

“You should think about it,” Elias says.  “You and uh … Sana’s friend.  What’s his name?”

“Isak.”  Even can’t keep the fond note out of his voice when he says the name and Elias notices, giving a slight approving nod and smile.

“Yeah, Isak.  You guys should … uh.  You should come.  We’d all love it if you were there.”

Even shoves his hands in his pockets, and shrugs.  “Yeah, okay,” he says.  “We might … we’ll think about it.”

This time he actually means it.  This time it feels worthy of consideration.  This time, Even thinks he might be okay with seeing everyone.  He knows it’s still fragile, all this, and he’s not really ready for any more in depth one-on-one conversations.  But there’s something there, most importantly the way these guys keep showing that they know what’s up with Even and Isak and they not only don’t care but they’re actively encouraging it.

Even nods at Elias as he turns to leave, and smiles as he gets an answering, ironic salute in return.

So it is that Even finds himself at a party that Friday night.  He’s not in the thick of it, by any stretch of the imagination.  In fact, his back is uncomfortable where it’s pressed against the corner of a wall where he’s placed himself so as to be as far from the action as he can get.  But Even’s here and he survived the terrifying moment when Mikael hugged him, wrapping his arms around him and thumping his back as if they’d seen each other just a day or so earlier.  It had left Even breathless and trembling, but Mikael hadn’t pushed it, just smiled and patted his shoulder before moving off to talk to someone else.

He’d also survived the short conversation Yousef had with him, and the sadness that still sits in his eyes when he looks at Even.  He’s promised to meet with all the guys again soon, sometime where it’s not so loud and it’s easier to hear each other.  Yousef patted Even on the shoulder and left him to his corner, but the smile he gave him as he did so suggested that he wasn’t done yet.  The idea leaves Even anxious.

Isak, who’s leaned up against the wall next to Even, slides his hand into his and squeezes.  Even looks quickly over at him and sees his eyebrow raised in query.  It’s only now that Even realizes he’s breathing faster and his muscles are pulling every part of him into the smallest ball he can manage.  He nods a reassurance to Isak then makes the muscles relax, one by one until he’s able to breathe a little easier.

“Baby?” Isak asks, leaning close so Even can smell the heavenly musk that is Isak when he’s warm and snuggly.  “You want me to get you a drink?”

Even’s hand clutches convulsively at Isak’s and he shakes his head vigorously.  “No,” he says.  “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Then come with me?  I’m dying for a beer.”

He pushes off from the wall, and with Even’s hand still in his own starts to make his way towards the kitchen where they left their own small stock of beers.  It takes a few seconds for Even to move too, and they’re almost separated before he makes his unwilling legs do his bidding.  It’s easier in the kitchen, though.  Less people and the music is muted, a dull thud through the walls as the sounds of delighted laughter drift back to them.

Isak sighs in bliss as he pulls a beer from the fridge and rolls it on his cheeks.

“Fuck it’s hot out there,” he says and Even laughs.

“It’s hot in here too.”

Even winks ostentatiously, then makes his eyes wide and innocent as Isak glances over at him and rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, Even,” Isak says, giggling despite his obvious dislike of the joke.  “How are you this corny?”

“Natural talent,” Even suggests as he wiggles his brows.  He reaches out and pulls Isak to him.  They’re standing a breath apart now and Even can feel his heart lightening, feel the strain in his body melting away.  His body tingles with the proximity of Isak’s, and Even wants so much to touch him.  It’s such a welcome feeling that Even can feel himself reaching out to grasp it in two hands.  Literally.  His hands end up resting on Isak’s arms, and he can feel the pulsing energy between them.  Even sighs happily and the movement of his chest brings them close together until it’s natural just to kiss the lips that are sitting so close to his own.

A clatter behind them pushes them apart and Even sighs in frustration.  Irritation floods him as he turns to see who or what has caused this unnecessary distance from Isak.  Of course the universe hates him enough that it’s Sonja.  She’s paused in the doorway with her mouth gaping open in a way that would be comical if it wasn’t so appallingly awkward.

“Oh,” Even says.  “Hey.”  He glances at Isak whose brows are furrowed together in confusion and realizes he’s never met Sonja and so he doesn’t know what’s happening here.  So Even adds an explanatory, “Sonja” as he looks back at her.  He can’t see Isak’s face, but feels the way he stiffens beside him.

“Hi, Even,” she squeaks now.  

He looks her over and notes that she looks thinner, her makeup isn’t quite as put together as it had been and she’s still got those large bags under her eyes that were already in place last time Even saw her.  He frowns.  

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking a step towards her, all the old instincts to protect her surfacing faster than he’d expected.  Her eyes go wide and she steps back a little.

“I’m perfectly fine, Even.  Enjoying this party.” She moves around him, careful to avoid his touch, and goes to the fridge to get out a beer before turning back to him.  

Even can feel his frown deepen.  She never used to like beer, always nagged him whenever he would have any.  Of course, a huge part of that was concern about his bipolar, but there was a judgement about beer and beer drinkers there as well.  Even can feel the urge to hold her, sort out her problems, and tuck her in under his wing resurfacing but he forces himself to take a step back.  She’s not his concern anymore, and the person who should be his focus is behind him, probably watching in confusion or sadness.  The feelings Even is getting from him are intense, waves of something uncertain.  Even chances a glance back at Isak, who _is_ still standing where he was, back against the counter and beer in hand.  He’s so obvious in his faked nonchalance, but the waves of stress are still flooding off him and Even is surrounded by too many competing emotions as the Beast stirs inside him.

He swallows, then nods his acceptance as Sonja raises the can in ironic acknowledgement and moves out of the kitchen.  Even turns back to Isak but the bubble has burst.  They’d forgotten themselves for a moment, forgotten that they weren’t exactly out to the general public.  But it’s all come crashing back with Sonja’s arrival and her obvious discomfort with seeing them.  They both know they can’t touch each other again right now, not at the risk of someone seeing, of _Sonja_ seeing.

Isak sighs, gives Even a rueful smile, and pushes off from the counter.  He smiles, sadly, before asking, “you want to go outside?  I think Mahdi might have some weed.”

Even shakes his head.  “No.  I think I’m going to find Elias and tell him I’m going to go home.”

Isak’s smile slips a little, but he nods.  “You want me to come with you?”

“Only if you want to.  You can smoke weed with the boys if you want.”

There’s a slight twist upwards of Isak’s perfect lips and he nods again.  “It is tempting,” he says.  “I haven’t smoked in ages.”  There’s a wistfulness in Isak’s voice that curls around something in Even’s heart.  He smiles gently.

“Just because I feel like shit doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have fun.  You go enjoy yourself, baby, and I’ll see you at home.”

Isak squeezes his hand one final time, then moves away.  Even has a sudden desperate desire to call him back, to wrap his arms around him and bury his head in Isak’s shoulder.  Without him, this place suddenly feels a lot more daunting, but Even knows Isak would come running if he called, and he knows that it’s not what he wants out of tonight.  So he grits his teeth and moves through the house in search of Elias.

He’s squeezing his way between two sets of couples who are making out when Sonja finds him again.  She looks drunk now, swaying slightly on her feet with her eyes large and her laughter quick and glittering.  It’s only been about twenty minutes, and Even is concerned at how short a time it’s taken, but before he can say anything she’s thrown her arms around his neck.

“Even!  You’re so tall!”

He disengages her as gently as he can, but she’s determined to press herself against him.  So eventually he lets her lean into his side as they survey the room.  He keeps his hand in his pocket, though, trying to keep a distance if he can.

“Have you seen Elias?” Even asks.  

“Nooooo,” she says.  “He was somewhere with the boys.  But then they went somewhere else.  Somewhere ....” she flaps her hands around.  “Somewhere that’s not-here.”

Even nods.  That’s the way of parties anyway, and with the darkness and the thumping music it’s impossible to see much beyond the people in his immediate vicinity.  He spots Yousef, who raises an eyebrow at him.  Sana is nearby, her eyes alight and a smile on her face that looks almost soft as she glances at him.  Sonja follows his gaze and nods, an exaggerated movement that topples her balance a little and leaves her pressed closer into Even.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?  I never thought Yousef, of everyone, would go out of archetype.”

Even’s attention snaps right back to her, and he’s suddenly hyper focused.  Sonja barely notices, and he’s not certain she’s in much shape to be steered into the conversation he wants anyway.  But it doesn’t matter; she’s chatty and willing to overshare.  Even’s guilt over invading his old friend’s privacy is no match for the desperate desire to hear more.

“He’s a Fool, you know?  Who’d have thought -- a Fool and a Seer.”  She giggles.  “How does that even work?”

“Yousef’s a Fool?” Even asks, unable to stay silent.  “I always thought he’s a Wise Man.”

“Oh?” Sonja’s face is comical now.  Her cheeks are red and her mouth and eyes are wide as she takes in Even.  “No.  No no no.  He’s one of those other Fools.  You know?  The ones that say stuff that get to you.  They … like, they, _see_ you, you know?  And they say shit that’s really un … uncomfortable.”

Thinking back on every interaction with Yousef, Even can see it.  He has always been the one to cut through the bullshit and tell you things you’d rather not hear about yourself.  Including how fucked up Even’s behaviour with Mikael was during _the thing_.  Knowing Yousef’s a Fool makes a lot of sense of some of the things that happened then and Even feels a rush of guilt.  Since Yousef never mentioned his type, Even has just assumed.  But maybe Yousef was embarrassed by it.  The thought makes Even sad; they could have bonded over their less desirable types and maybe come out of all this better friends.  If Even had only bothered to ask (and maybe find out why Yousef had acted the way he did), he might have reacted differently, might never have cut his friends off so thoroughly.  

Even’s used to the Magnus type of Fool, the ones who say and do stupid shit and set everyone at ease.  But he knows that’s not all there is to the type.  He’s heard of this other sort, the ones that hold you to account, but he hadn’t realized he’d had experience of it.  He’s shaken now.  Sonja is rattling on, regaling him with ways in which Yousef is a Fool, but Even’s more interested in what he’s finding with Sana.

“How do you know he’s going out of archetype?” he cuts in now, breaking off Sonja’s thought.

She looks up at him like he’s missing something ridiculously obvious.  “Have you _seen_ them?” she asks.  “He’s so gone for her, he’d do anything.”

Indeed, as Even watches them Yousef looks so fond that Even feels like he’s intruding.  For her part, Sana is looking up at him like he’s the only person in the room, or possibly the world.  It’s something to think about, Even realizes.  He’s not the only one who’s spreading his wings, it seems, and that takes him aback.  Why has everyone suggested that Even moving away from his Beauty is such a bad thing if it’s okay for other types to do it?

He can feel a rage rising in him, a bitterness that he’s been treated differently.  It threatens to consume him, and it’s the worst Even has felt in weeks.  He’d been so calm and at ease for so long that he’d barely paid attention to the Beast and all it means.  But now it’s roaring back into life and Sonja can tell.  She looks a lot more sober now, and she places her hand very deliberately on his arm.  Her fingers dance over his hand and it settles him a little.  Even grits his teeth, and shakes her off.  He doesn’t want this anymore.  He’s become used to pulling himself back from any urges he’s felt; even though they’ve been smaller he’s felt a sense of achievement when he’s managed it.  Having Sonja here, so instinctively reacting to his beastly instincts, is unwelcome and irritating.  It takes longer than usual, but Even finally manages to quell the instinctive anger down to something more manageable.

“So … babe,” Sonja says now, not noticing how distant Even is feeling as she moves even further into his personal space.  She tilts her head up to his and smiles, a pout on her lips and a glint in her eye.  “Have you got over your weird Outcast thing yet?  When are you coming home?”

Even’s heart twists.  Hearing Isak referred to so dismissively breaks Even.  “No.  I haven’t and I’m not going to.  Sonja, you have to get past this.”

She shakes her head, and runs her fingers up the front of his shirt.  Despite himself, Even can feel the old stirrings.  There’s no passion or desire here, but the familiarity is deep and Even feels himself swaying a little towards her, an instinctive response to her touch.

“Even, you know as well as I do that we’re going to end up together.  Why are you fighting it?”

“Sonja, what are you doing?  I don’t … I don’t love you anymore.”

He pushes her away, or tries to, but she sticks close.  Even knows this is at least partly due to the alcohol she’s imbibed, but he’s still angry.  He doesn’t want this, and any earlier concerns he’d had about how he’d cope without a Beauty are being washed away now.  He can feel her settling him, but it’s so artificial.  Even remembers the way it is with Isak, and he knows it’s better.  In fact, he’s feeling more enraged, and more in need of calming, with Sonja than he ever has with Isak.  These feelings, the beastly anger and the calming peace of a Beauty, don’t feel like an intrinsic part of him anymore, and he closes his eyes in relief at that thought.

Sonja pouts and tries to kiss Even, though he pushes her back before she can connect.  “You don’t need an Outcast, Even.  You need a Beauty.  You need me.”

“No.  I don’t.  You’re right, I don’t need Isak,” Even says looking around swiftly to make sure no-one else is hearing this.  Even though most people here know he’s a Beast, there’s always the chance that it’ll get back to Nissen and he feels a stab of white hold fear at the thought.  To Even’s relief, most people are in their own worlds, but unfortunately one person isn’t.  He looks up and sees Isak staring at them from the doorway to the kitchen.  He’s only about a foot away.  Isak swallows, having clearly heard every word, and there’s a deep, betrayed sadness in his eyes.  Even tries to communicate with a look that he has more to add.  Isak, however, turns away and leaves, dragging a piece of Even’s heart with him.  But he has to weigh up his priorities right now, and at this moment in time, letting Sonja know exactly where they stand is most crucial.  So Even gently takes Sonja’s arms and pulls her off him.  “I don’t need Isak, but I don’t need you either.  I’m fine on my own.  And the difference between you and him ... is that I love him.”

Her mouth crumples as she tries to keep her composure and her eyes fill with tears.  She steps away from him now, her lips trembling and Even has an irrational urge to reach out and tell her he was wrong.  But he knows it’s just his beastly instincts trying to soothe an unhappy Beauty.  She shakes her head at him, takes a deep breath and looks him right in the eye.

“Okay,” she says, and her voice is wobbly, but there’s steel behind it.  Even has never admired her more than he does in this moment.  “I just hope you don’t regret it, Even.”

“I won’t,” he says.  “I don’t.  He’s everything I want.”

She nods, her mouth trying to smile but the sadness she so clearly still feels is evident behind the facade.  She turns, her back straight, and walks deliberately away from Even.  He watches her go, his heart plummeting.  He feels like he should say more, be kinder.  She deserves it after all this time, but now … now he has to find Isak.  Sonja’s fine, she’ll get over this, but Even’s heart is squeezing tight at the idea that Isak is out there thinking badly of Even right now.  All thought of leaving the party is gone.  Finding Isak is imperative, sorting out the misunderstanding is essential.

Even snorts a little as he realizes just how differently he’s acting right now.  Before, he would’ve run, he’d try to obfuscate and ignore.  Now, though, it feels important to face it.  He can’t bear the thought of Isak alone and insecure, can’t bear that Isak heard Even say he doesn’t need him.  His breath is coming in short, sharp pants as he hurries through the crowd, though Even is sure that a lot of that is from fear rather than the hurried movements.

He scours the party for the next few minutes, but soon realizes that it’s useless.  Isak isn’t here anymore.  Even finds Jonas eventually, and grabs his arm.

“Do you know where Isak is?  I have to talk to him.”

Jonas purses his lips and gives Even a look filled with disgust.  His eyes are blazing and his words are short and clipped when he speaks.  “He went home.”

Even’s heart sinks.  He hadn’t thought it was that bad, what he’d said, but obviously it had affected Isak more than Even had expected.  Equally obviously, Jonas is pissed at him.  

“Fuck,” he says quietly as he makes his way through the crowd and out of the house.

 

Even pushes the apartment door open carefully and slips in as silently as he can.  The look Jonas had given him when he told him where Isak was had been angry, almost aggressive.  He’d looked like he’d wanted to chew Even out, but was refraining only because it was such a public spot.  So Even is worried how Isak’s guru, and protective Godmother, is going to react.  Eskild never has any qualms about telling it like it is, and he wouldn’t be hampered even if he was in public.  Which this isn’t.  Even tiptoes inside the kollectiv, and kicks off his shoes, hopeful that he’s going to avoid a confrontation if he’s quiet enough.  He’s so focused on being stealthy that he doesn’t notice that someone has appeared in the hallway with him.  

“Fuck,” he exclaims, startled, as Eskild taps on his shoulder.

“What the fuck have you done?” Eskild hisses, indicating with his head in the direction of Isak’s bedroom.

“Nothing, I promise.”  

At Eskild’s disbelieving glare, Even shrugs.  His heart is still beating uncomfortably fast, and he can feel the cold wash of fear as he sees how upset Eskild is.  He tries again.

“It’s a misunderstanding.  Sonja was at the party and she tried some stuff.  Isak saw, but it wasn’t what it looked like.”

Eskild looks him over, his eyes narrowed and his hands on his hips.  There are times when Even finds Eskild comical, and it’s hard to take him seriously.  This is not one of those times.  He’s in full Godmother mode, and his stare is calculating as he rakes his eyes over Even.  The fear is pounding in Even again, and he chews his lips anxiously as he waits for Eskild to speak.

“Well … I’ll give you the night.  But if he’s still like this in the morning, I’ll have your balls.”

“I thought you said they were safe,” Even tries.  He wants to make this moment more lighthearted because right now he’s petrified, and if Eskild isn’t on his side ( _Eskild,_ of all people; the one who was so supportive of their relationship) then Even doesn’t know what he can do.

Eskild is still in no mood to joke, clearly, because the look he gives Even is disdainful.  “That was before my baby gay came home looking like death warmed over and told me you don’t really care for him.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Mmmmm,” Eskild agrees.  “So you better get in there and fix it really soon.”

Even pushes open the bedroom door, and what he sees breaks his heart.  Isak is sitting on his bed, his legs drawn up to his chest and his eyes wet with tears.  He glances up as the door creaks, and his face crumples in an ironic replay of Sonja’s from earlier.  Even moves as quietly as he can towards Isak and reaches out his hand.  Isak flinches away from his touch and Even drops his hand as if burned.

“Baby?”

That gets a reaction.  “Baby? Where do you get off calling me baby?  I heard it _all._ ”  

Isak’s voice is sharp, aggressive, and there’s a pain and an anger behind it that hurts Even.  This is what he’d always feared, that he would end up being bad for Isak, that his mere presence would hurt him.  In all those dark nights of depression, these were the thoughts that swarmed, so it’s hard to watch this right now and know that it’s Even who has done this.  The Beast is trying to come out again; it’s been close to the surface since he’d spoken to Sonja and this isn’t helping.  So before he does anything else, Even forces himself to be calm.  He walks to the window and looks out on the street below.  The calm he sees in the lightly flowing traffic and few people traipsing along the sidewalks allows him to settle a little.  Even gets himself under control, though one small growl slips out before he manages to quell it.  When he feels settled again, Even turns back to Isak.  He’s still curled into a protective ball.

Even moves over and sits gingerly on the bed, near to where Isak is huddled, but not within touching distance.  He debates waiting for Isak to speak, but it’s clear from the rigid lines of his body and the stubborn set to his mouth that Isak’s not planning on saying anything any time soon.  So it seems like it’s up to Even.

“Can you hear me out?” Even asks finally.  “If I explain and you still feel this way, I’ll go.  I promise.”

Isak looks at him, his face still a mask and his eyes clouded and unhappy.  But he nods, dropping his chin onto his knees and waving a hand as if inviting Even to start.

“Okay,” Even says.  He’s tense and uncertain, not really sure what to begin with, so he feels like he’s babbling a little when he gets going.  “I know what you heard and I know how it looked.”  He reaches out to take Isak’s hand, but thinks better of it and pulls back at the last moment, as hard as that is.  “But … it’s not what you think.  I love you, and I mean that.”  Even takes a breath, trying to control the wobble in his own voice and the way his heart is racing at the thought that he could lose all this.  “It’s just … I just realized something tonight.  That you were right all along.”

That pulls Isak’s attention and he lifts his head off his knees to stare at Even.  “I was right?” he asks, his voice tiny, but interested.

“Yeah.  She was telling me I need her, need a Beauty and I realized that I don’t.  I don’t need her, I don’t _need_ you.  I can … I can look after myself.”  Isak blanches at the words, so Even scoots closer, hoping Isak will let him in now.  He chances putting his hand on Isak’s knee and is jubilant when Isak lets it stay there.  “But the thing is … I don’t need you, I _want_ you.  With everything I have.  I told her that.  I told her I love you, and that I’m never going to ‘get over’ this so-called ‘Outcast thing’ I have.  Because it’s not an Outcast thing; it’s a you thing.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course I fucking mean it.  If you tell me to fuck off right now, I will.  But Isak, I don’t want to.  I want to stay here with you.”

He moves his hands to Isak’s face, rubbing his thumbs over his cheekbone.  Isak relaxes, letting himself lean into the touch and Even closes his eyes in relief.  He feels it when Isak slides closer to him and wraps his arms around Even’s shoulders.  It’s only then that Even realizes how tense he’s been, now that he’s relaxing into Isak’s embrace.

“I love you,” Isak says, the words tiny in the large room.  “But I’ve never believed that you’ll really stay.”

That breaks something in Even, and he pulls Isak in as close as he can.  It’s always hard to hear him like this, so unsure, so convinced that he doesn’t deserve love and that it will always walk away from him.  

“Oh baby.  I know it’s hard, but I’m staying.”

“You’d better,” Isak says, his voice firmer now.  “I’m sick of crying over your stupid ass.”

“To be fair,” Even says, allowing his affection to seep into his voice, “this one is your own fault.”

“Shut up,” Isak says, smacking Even lightly on his arm.  “What was I supposed to think?”

“That your amazing, hot, awesome boyfriend loves you and would never hurt you?”

Isak snorts into his neck, half amused laugh and half sob.  “I’ll remember that next time.”

“You better,” Even says, sitting back and grinning at Isak.  “Now … I really want to kiss you, even with the huge amounts of snot you seem to have got all over your face.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“Gladly,” Even says, and just like that the mood in the room changes.  All the pent up energy, all the sadness, the anxiety, the desperation, comes to a head.  Isak’s gaze changes, becomes more intense.  Even watches in fascination as he licks his lips, the tip of his tongue tracing a slow circle as his eyes drop to Even’s mouth.  

Even can feel his dick hardening in his pants and he moans quietly.  Isak’s eyes light up and he sits back, teasingly.

“I don’t know, Even.  I’m a bit snotty.”  He shrugs. “I’m not entirely sure you’d enjoy that.”

“Isak … you.”  Even gasps as Isak reaches a hand out and runs it lightly over his clothed dick, making it twitch.  “Fuuuuck, please,” he grinds out, and Isak laughs softly.

“I really really want to keep teasing, but I’m too fucking horny.”

He pulls Even into him and kisses him, pouring so much passion into it that Even is left gasping for breath when he lets go.

“That desperate, huh?” Even says, as steadily as he can, which to be honest isn’t very steadily at all.  Isak rolls his eyes.

“Says the man who just begged.”

And who is Even to argue with that?  He’s desperate to feel Isak again, to remove all the sadness and the hurt of the last hour and just be with him.  So he stands up and holds his hand out.

“Shower?”

“Mmmmm?”  Isak pretends to think, but can’t hold the grin off his face.

They tumble into the bathroom, all fumbling fingers and scattered clothes, but it’s not long before they are both naked and under the stream of warm water.  Even’s so hard he’s actually aching and it doesn’t help that Isak, that little shit, has decided to take his time and tease a little.  He’s on his knees, looking up at Even with water pouring off the planes of his face and running down his abs in a way which makes Even twitch eagerly.  He won’t be held accountable for what he might do if Isak doesn’t get his hands on him in the next thirty seconds.

As if he knows what Even’s thinking, Isak smirks up at him and the glint in his eyes doesn’t bode well for a speedy end to Even’s aching issue.

“I want to try something,” Isak says now, as he casually takes Even’s dick in his hand and leisurely strokes it once.  Even hisses at the touch; it’s so good, but it’s not enough, the touch barely registering as Isak’s grip is so loose.

“You want to try something?  I think I said once before that I’m up for anything.”

“Mmmm, true,” Isak says, lazily licking a stripe up Even’s dick, before flicking the tip and making Even groan in frustrated pleasure.  “But it’s still nice to ask.”

“Okay, baby,” Even manages to gasp as Isak follows his tongue up with one inquiring finger gently running from base to tip and back again.  “Ask … ask away.”

“I want …” Isak blushes a little even as he’s still running his finger along Even’s dick in the most infuriatingly teasing way.  “I want to try rimming.”

“I … uh …” Even starts, but Isak shushes him, the hand on his lips so incongruous a contrast to the one holding Even’s dick that Even stutters into stunned silence.

“On you,” Isak says, a smile flickering onto his lips.  “I want to do it to you.”

Isak’s looking up at Even with big eyes and an earnest expression, the smile still hovering around the edges of his mouth.  And holy fuck, he looks so sexy and the idea is so hot that it turns Even on harder than he’s ever been turned on before.  Which is something of a problem, since he was already _really_ fucking hard and desperate.

“Yeah.  Oh god, fuck yeah,” Even gets out before Isak is grinning and pushing on his thigh.  It takes a moment before it registers to Even that he’s asking him to turn around so he can do it _right now,_ and Even’s brain shorts out just a little as he complies.

There’s a sense of loss as Isak lets his dick go, but it’s soon replaced with a slippery sensation as Isak’s hands run rhythmically over and around Even’s ass.  He realizes Isak is cleaning him and the idea of having this done to him makes Even groan.  He’s so used to being the protector, the one who’s in control and dominating, that this is all new and invigorating.  It turns out Even really likes it, likes handing over the control to Isak like this.  His dick is still aching, so he takes it in his own hand.  As he does so, Isak gently pushes on his back until he’s leaning forward a little and braced against the wall.  This puts Even’s ass on more prominent display, and he’d be a little embarrassed by it if Isak didn’t choose that moment to lick a stripe from Even’s balls up to his sensitive opening and back down again.  

If Even had thought that his body had been on fire other times they’ve been together, it’s nothing on what it’s like right now.  It’s like Isak’s tongue is trailing sparks that light Even up, every spot more sensitive than the last.  He can’t hold in the moan he makes, then gasps as Isak laughs against him, the vibrations ricocheting through every already-sensitive part of Even.

“Like that, do you?” Isak asks and Even snorts. He’s pressing back against Isak’s mouth, his hand is erratic on his dick and basically he can’t function with the amount of flashpoints lighting up his body.  It’s been less than a minute since Isak first touched him and Even has already completely lost himself.  ‘Like’ seems to be a _very_ inadequate word, but Even is incapable of articulating all that.

“Isaaaaaak …” he moans out, causing Isak to chuckle again, setting more fires alight through Even.

Now there’s hot breath on his ass, sending prickling sensations through the cool skin there, and a tongue pressing into Even over and over, pausing only to run small circles around his rim or to lick stripes down to his balls again.  Even simultaneously feels like his whole body is one giant ball of heat and also a concentrated pool of cool skin only heated by Isak’s breath and fingers.  He can dimly hear the keening sounds he’s making as Isak keeps up his efforts.  It’s not long before Even is embarrassingly close to coming, so he forces his eyes closed and stills his hand on his dick.  As agonizing as it is to deny himself right now, he wants to get inside Isak and coming now would defeat that.  Even pulls his body away from Isak’s mouth and gasps, “stop … I’m going to … you need to stop.”

Isak sits back immediately, alerted by Even’s tone that he doesn’t want to come right now.  Even turns and pulls Isak to his feet, pressing his lips against his boyfriend’s almost feverishly.  It should be weird, considering what Isak has just been doing, but it’s not.  It’s thrilling, and just the thought of it is enough to make Even hot all over.  Every inch of Even’s body is sensitized and he can feel the short hairs on Isak’s arms sparking his desire even further as they brush against Even’s body.  He’s desperate now, needs to find a release.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks, and it comes out more breathless than he’d intended.

Isak chuckles as he nods a breathy yes against Even’s lips, his hips pressing his own obviously hard cock into Even’s thigh.  Not willing to waste any more time, Even slips his hand between them immediately.  Lube is difficult with all the water, but Even doesn’t want to hurt Isak so he just patiently uses a lot more than usual to ensure Isak is ready.  It doesn’t take long for Even to open Isak up; only a few sweeps of his fingers brushing his prostate leave Isak a writhing mess.  Even feels a small sense of smugness.  Isak may be able to take him apart with a few strokes of his tongue, but at least Even can reciprocate with his fingers.  

Soon, Isak’s gasping against Even’s neck; he’s obviously trying to suck a bruise, but ends up mostly just mouthing as he lets out whimpers whenever Even hits his prostate.

“You ready baby?” Even asks when he thinks Isak’s close.

“Shut up, and do something,” Isak retorts, his voice higher pitched than usual, and his words stumbling from his mouth in an erratic motion.

Chuckling, Even slides down so he’s sitting cross legged in the base of the bathtub, and pulls Isak down so he’s straddling him.  He lines himself up, then urges Isak to push down onto him. It’s a funny angle, but that’s actually working for Even.  It dulls the sensation a little so he’s not as desperate to come as he was a few minutes ago.  He pushes in as gently as he can while Isak presses downwards, feels the resistance briefly as Isak tenses but then slides in fully with one more push as Isak relaxes again.

Sitting here with the water running over them, cooling now as they seem to have used most of the hot, Even feels closer to Isak than ever.  Their bodies are pressed together, and they have a death grip on each other as they struggle to remain in place without slipping over onto the floor of the tub (because that would be fucking awkward to explain to anyone).  Even can’t thrust the way he usually would, constrained by the way they’re connected, but instead he can kiss every inch of Isak’s face and neck as they rock together.  It’s slower, softer, and it’s such a contrast to the fire and drive when Isak was on his knees earlier that Even almost goes weak with it.  His body may not be feeling the same fire as before, but he can still feel Isak in every part of him, feel the heat rippling along his skin.  This is everything he’d ever craved when he was with Sonja and it means everything that he gets to have this.

“I love you,” he mutters into Isak’s skin as he kisses every inch he can reach.  “I love you, I love you.”

He hears Isak’s whispered responses, awed and small as if they’ll be lost if he says them any louder.  They spark something in Even anyway.  It’s not long before it all builds again, the fire and the desperate need to come.  The soft patter of the water, the panting of Isak in his ear, the slick sounds as their wet bodies slip together, it all serves to heighten the feelings building in Even and he’s soon moaning softly, repeating Isak’s name as he gets close.  Even feels it everywhere, dozens of fires exploding across his skin and through his body when he finally lets himself go, and he shudders through the release as Isak tenses around him and follows soon after.  He clings to Even, his head tucked into Even’s neck and his breathing coming in sharp gasps.

The water is running cold now, and Even laughs as his breathing settles back to something like normal.  He presses his forehead to Isak’s and stares at him fondly.

“Baby, you’re amazing,” he says, and Isak laughs.

“Are you going to say that every time we have sex?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Even says, making his voice as serious as he can.  He kisses Isak again because he can. Because his nerves are all still tingling and he feels the need to.  “Because you are.  And this time because I’m so … your fucking tongue.”

Isak sniggers softly then pulls himself off Even, shivering as the cold water washes away the traces of what they’ve been doing.  He steps out of the bath, then holds his hand out to Even who wobbles a little as he follows suit.  His legs don’t quite want to work again yet and he realizes that the shower is not a good place for these activities.  He doesn’t want to move, wants to cuddle with Isak, but is forced to step out because of the cold and the fact that Isak is now toweling himself off.

“I want to try that with you,” Even says now as he reaches for his own towel.

Isak raises an eyebrow in question, and Even laughs.  “The rimming, baby.  I want to try it.”

“Oh.”  Isak smiles at him, a blush on his cheeks.  “You liked it then?”

“Way too small a word for what I thought about that,” Even says, stepping into Isak’s space and kissing him.  “I also think … maybe you could try, you know … fucking me some time?”

“Yeah?”

Even nods.  The mere idea is lighting him on fire again.  The idea of letting it all go so thoroughly, of letting Isak be the one to dictate pace and everything, it’s making Even slightly hard again already.  

“Yeah,” he says.  “I’d really like that.”

They return to the bedroom, giggling and teasing each other.  It’s nice, Even thinks, as Isak pushes him and gives him one of his patented eye rolls, the one that says, _you’re not as cute as you think_ and which Even counters with an eyebrow which calls him out on it.  The shrug and shit-eating grin which follows is enough to show that Isak is secure enough to be in a teasing mood again.

Even’s about to take advantage of this when his phone pings.  Frowning, he reaches for it.  He’s not expecting any texts or calls and no-one ever contacts him this late.  It must be after midnight by now.  Isak has stilled by his side, and his arms which were tickling Even a few seconds ago, are now securely around his waist as Isak presses up against Even’s back to prop his chin on Even’s shoulder.

“Your dad?’ he asks, confusion clear in his voice.  “What could he want?”

Even doesn’t answer, just opens the message and reads it carefully.

“He wants me to go over there.  Tomorrow.”  He checks his watch.  “Or today really.”

“Does he say why?”

“No.”

“Mmmm, do you think you’ll go?”

“Yeah.  Probably.”

In the past, Even would have been eager to avoid it.  Hell, even a few days ago, Even would have insisted on staying away for fear that his parents would try to talk him out of his relationship.  Now, however, Even is fairly certain that they won’t disparage Isak anymore, and he’s curious about why his father would contact him this late to ask to see him.  He’s also feeling a little homesick if he’s honest.  The last few weeks with Isak have been a dream, sometimes a bad one when Even was at his lowest, but Even wouldn’t change it for the world.  He feels safe here, settled.  Still.  There’s a part of him that wants the warm comfort of home, the easy love his parents have for him, the sense that he truly belongs in the space and isn’t just someone’s boyfriend.

He types a positive response, then throws the phone aside.  Even glances over his shoulder at Isak and laughs.  His eyes have slid shut and his head is starting to flop sideways.  His mouth is drooping open, and there’s a whistling note to the breaths which are coming through his nose.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Even says softly, turning so he can move Isak a little.  “Hey.  Let’s get into bed, huh?”

“Nnnnhhhhh, don’t want to,” Isak protests.  “Stay here.”

“No, baby, you’ll be more comfortable lying down.  Come on …”

Gently, Even moves Isak and manages to pull the blankets up around his shoulders.  Isak huffs a protest, then snuggles into Even, his leg hooking over Even’s as usual and his hands tucked under his pillow which he’s managed to prop up on Even’s shoulder somehow.  Even wraps his arms around him, and wonders again what he’s done to deserve this.  All the stress, all the worry, all the fear … it’s all been so insignificant in the long run.  They’re good together, type or no type, and Even’s determined.  He’s going to make sure his father is on board with that by the time he leaves tomorrow.

The next day, Even expects to be back in the interrogation chair.  There was so much ceremony in the way his father contacted him and in the way he greeted Even at the door when he arrived, all showy hug and loud booming voice.  But instead, they’re sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, coffee in hand (to which his father remembered to add caramel).  Unsure what to say, Even leaves it to his father to start speaking, but it seems his father has no idea either.  So there’s a silence stretching between them.  It’s not uncomfortable, exactly, but it’s not the easy way they used to interact either.  The ghosts of so many previous conversations sit between them and it doesn’t look like either of them can push through them.  

Even clears his throat.  The sound reverberates in the still kitchen, and his father jumps, pulled from whatever thought he’d been immersed in.  He looks over at Even and smiles.  It’s small and sad and fear clutches at Even.  It’s the smile of someone with some bad news to impart.  He holds himself rigid, afraid to show any sort of reaction to whatever bombshell is coming.  His father looks away, his fingers trailing uneasy lines on the woodgrain of the table.  Even is suddenly desperate not to have this conversation, so he tries stalling.

“Mamma’s not here?” he asks.

“No.  No … she … I wanted to talk to you alone.  It’s … there’s a lot I want to say and I maybe need some advice.”

Even feels chills at his words.  Why would his father need advice from Even about his mother?  If they’re having problems Even doesn’t want to know, and he can’t think of any other reason why his father might want to talk to Even about his mother.  The feeling of impending doom settles further into Even’s bones, and he curses whatever impulse it was that led him to mention his mother.  It’s not helping that Even’s father has stopped talking and fallen into some sort of contemplative silence, leaving Even to whatever flights of fancy his whirling mind conjures up.

“I need to apologize to you,” his father says finally, and Even gapes.  He can’t make anything sensible form in his head, just stares blankly as he tries to take this in.  This doesn’t sound like it has anything to do with Mamma, so what the hell was all that shit about?

“Excuse me?”  It’s all Even can think to say, as startled as he is about this abrupt turn in the conversation.

“I’m sorry.”  His father huffs a sigh, a rueful twist to his lips.  “I was wrong about you and the b-- … about you and Isak.”

Even still can’t form any coherent words.  He’d been expecting something big today, but never this.  He looks properly at his father and sees the strain, the guilt, that sits in the lines around his mouth and the taut crinkles of his eyes.

“That’s not … you don’t have to apologize.”

“No, I do.  I look at you and I see you now and it’s so obvious how good you are for him.  And … and he is for you too.”

“I’m not … that’s not …”

“I could only see what I’ve always seen,” his father continues.  “You know the story about how I met your mother and how … how unhappy and out of control she was.”

He looks up quickly to see Even’s response, so Even nods.  He’s heard that story so often he could almost recite it in his sleep.  It’s always been used to keep him in order, even when he was a tiny child.  His father catches something of his feeling in his face, because he nods, sadly.

“Yeah.”  His father swallows as he looks at Even beseechingly.  Even’s not sure what reaction he’s supposed to have so he remains silent, waiting for some final clue that will tell him what to do and how to think.  Without input from Even, his father sighs and continues.  “Yeah … okay.  Well, we assumed it would be like that for you.  When you were born you were such a little firecracker, always into everything, always demanding and wanting to be in charge.  You were so feisty, it wasn’t a shock to us when they said you’re a Beast.”

Even laughs a little, reminded of the ways in which he used to terrorize his family.  “I just wanted everything to go my way,” he says.  “It wasn’t … I wasn’t _mean_ about it.”

“Oh, no.  No of course not.  But it was very typical behavior of little Beasts.  So we just assumed that was who you were.”

Nodding, Even sees it all again in his memories.  Sees the way they encouraged his controlling and domineering tendencies.  It had been a lot of fun as a kid to be encouraged to be aggressive, to take what he wanted, when he wanted it.  But ...

“It’s not who I am,” he says now.  “I don’t really like being that way.”

“No,” his father agrees sadly.  “And for that I’m sorry.  I … we didn’t know …”

“Didn’t know what?”

His father looks at him now, the guilt stark on his face.  Whatever he wants to say, it’s clear that it hurts him.  Even’s suddenly afraid of what he’s going to hear.  Is he not a Beast?  After all this time of coming to grips with it, is he going to find his whole life has been a lie?  As if he understands, his father reaches out and squeezes Even’s hand.  He shakes his head.

“I found something the other day.  A book.”

“A book?”

“Yeah.  I got to thinking about you and … and Isak.  And I know you’re not so secure in the Beast and Beauty thing, so I thought I could find something to help.  You know, to help me understand where you’re coming from.”

Even’s forehead is creased in confusion.  None of this makes any sense, and he wishes his dad would just get to the fucking point already.  His father laughs, clearly reading exactly that thought on Even’s face.

“Well, what I found was quite … challenging, you could say.  I … uh.  It was very ... uncomfortable to read.”

The voice is wobbly as he hesitates over the words, so obviously trying to find the right ones to make this conversation easier.  And now his dad is shaking, his hands trembling so much he can’t hold his cup anymore.  Coffee splashes onto the table as he sets his cup down and then looks up at Even again.  Whatever he’s found has obviously had a huge impact on his equilibrium.  It all makes Even’s anxiety spill over too, so now he can feel his own body start to tremble as well.

“The book says there are other ways of being a Beast.  That there are Beasts who aren’t aggressive and dominant.”

Shock hits Even like a bucket of chilled water.  How can this be?  It’s impossible.  He says the only thing he can drag into his mind.  

“What?”

“After seeing you with Isak the other day, I thought something wasn’t adding up so I went to the shop.”

His father looks away as if into some distant memory, then shakes himself as he comes back to himself.  It looks like it takes a lot to say what he says next, and Even’s barely taking it in anyway.

“It’s only one book, and I don’t really know.  I haven’t wanted to tell your mother, because … well you know how she gets and it would upset her, I think.” As if this wasn’t upsetting _Even_ right now.  Even growls a little, low in his throat, which startles a concerned glance out of his father before he continues.  “But … but it says that the only things that really are inherent in all Beasts are a protectiveness and a tendency to overreact to emotional stimuli.”

He sounds like he’s reciting from rote, and he probably is.  Even’s left dumbfounded.  Heat is boiling in his veins, and he can’t think clearly.  This is all too much to comprehend, and Even’s body is urging him to get away, to run.  Before he really knows what he’s doing, Even’s chair is pushed back, legs shrieking from the force of that push as they slide across the floor.  His heart is hammering, and Even can’t breathe.  His father has risen too, and is reaching a placating hand out towards him, but Even can’t let it connect, fears the touch will burn like a brand as he comes to terms with what his father’s words imply about his entire life to date.  As he moves, Even can dimly hear his father following him, can barely take in the words he’s saying.

“One of the ways of being a Beast is a playful one, an excitable one.  I think that sounds like you.”

And that finally pushes Even’s feet into motion.  He needs to be alone, to deal with this in his own way and in his own time.  He skitters back into the hallway and wrenches open the door.  As it slams shut behind him, Even hears one last comment from his father.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this thing nears its end (only two to go, wow), I find myself unwilling to leave the universe behind. Thankfully, I have also been really annoyed at times that I chose to do this all in one PoV, so I'm thinking of doing a small group of scenes from Isak's PoV. I'd generally prefer not to do ones where we already have a good sense of where he's coming from and I already have a few ideas of moments I want to explore. But if anyone has some thoughts of bits you would like to see from Isak's PoV I'd love to hear them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently the plan I made for ten chapters was overly ambitious and the things I was intending to resolve in this chapter got a teeny tiny bit out of control. So the end result is that it got too long and I decided to split it to give each section space to breathe. That makes this an 11 chapter beastie rather than 10 but I figure it's better all round. So yeah, hopefully it all works okay for everyone. And also, many thanks to those who gave me ideas about Isak PoV moments for this universe, and please keep giving me more. I'm filing them all away and looking forward to looking at all this from his side and I'm always keen to get more.

Even’s shaking as he leans up against the wall outside his parents’ building.  It’s cold, a wind  has blown up and is setting icicles around the exposed parts of Even, his fingers, his nose, his ears.  But that’s not why he’s shaking.  His first instinct had been to run, to get as far away from the situation as he could, but his treacherous legs are now refusing to co-operate.  So here he is, back against the wall (literally and figuratively, which is just … great) trying to force some semblance of order into his world which has been thrown into chaos with a few well-intentioned words from his father.  The cold seeps deeper into his bones, but Even ignores it; there are far bigger forces playing with him than mere season changes.

Fuck.  How the fuck did Even get into this situation?  How could he not  _ know? _  Well, of course he knew on some basic, instinctual level that he didn’t like being beastly in the way he’s always been expected to.  But he’d never expected this.  On the surface, this is great news: Even’s not the monster he’s always thought he had to be and yet rejected with every fiber of his being.  That’s great, really fucking awesome.  If he wasn’t so terrified of what this meant, Even would be dancing in the streets right now.  That fucking fits this new information which in turn sends shafts of fear right through his body.  _  Playful … excitable. _  Right.   _ Sounds like you. _  Yeah.  But how do you deal with something like this?  How do you rearrange everything you know about yourself?

The shaking is trailing off now, but it leaves a bone deep weariness in its wake.  Even’s been on such high alert ever since he stepped into his parents’ home that the loss of it now is like a dose of sleeping potion.  He’s exhausted, every muscle he owns screaming out to go home, sink into a bed and sleep for at least a month.  Instead, he chooses to reach out to the one person who can always make sense of his nonsensical world.  His hands are almost steady as he pulls out his phone and presses send on Isak’s number.  He knows he should text, but right now Even needs Isak’s voice, needs the settled feeling Isak gives him.

“Halla?” Isak sounds wary.  Happy to hear from Even, but unsure.  Of course.  Even hasn’t been here long enough for it to be a natural ending.  Calling him out of the blue like this was always going to make him anxious.

“Hey baby,” Even says, trying hard to sound natural but by the sharp intake of breath on the other end, he can tell he’s failed.  He sighs, hearing the wobble in it and hoping like hell he can get through this without breaking down and alarming Isak any more than he already is.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.  Or … not nothing, but nothing big.”  Even takes a breath, trying to still his thoughts before he spills everything to Isak.  But it comes out anyway, in a mess of mixed up ideas.  “I just … Isak, I’m all wrong.”

“What the fuck?” Isak’s voice is concerned now, and Even knows it’s because he’s rambling and making no sense.  He tries again.

“Pappa, he … there was a book, and he thinks … maybe there’s more than one type of Beast.  And I … and I …”

“Oh.” There’s a wealth of understanding in Isak’s voice and Even can hear the smile behind the concern.  “Where are you now, Even?”

“Outside their place.  I couldn’t get any farther.”

There’s a long moment of silence on the other end of the line, a rustling sound as Isak shifts position.  Even imagines where he’s sitting, on their bed (their bed?  Since when did Even truly start to think of Isak’s room as ‘their’ room?)  He can picture a frown on Isak’s forehead, and a smirk twisting his lips as he takes all this in.  Even sighs, feeling the longing for Isak welling up.  All he wants to do right now is bury himself in Isak’s shoulder and let all his pain leech out of him.  He can hear the intake of breath on the other end, showing that Isak has heard the sigh and probably understands Even’s thought process.

“Do you want me to come and find you?”

“No.”  Even suddenly knows that pouring this all out onto Isak right now isn’t what’s best for him.  He’s desperate to see Isak, to let him soothe all Even’s pain away, and yet there’s something else Even needs right now.  He’s shivering, anxiety is coursing through him at the thought, but he needs to do this.  “No,” he says, letting his breath whistle out through his teeth.  “No.  I’m going to go back in.  I … I need to hear what Pappa is saying.  But can you … can you look some stuff up?”

On the phone there’s a huff of laughter, and a soft caring voice.  “You want me to science this for you?  I’m the fucking master of science, I got this.”  Isak’s putting on bravado, a show of levity for Even’s sake and Even closes his eyes in appreciation of the care Isak takes with him.  It’s not the same as when Sonja would do it.  She would do it because she thought Even was incapable of doing it for himself.  Isak does it because he wants to be there for Even.

Even laughs a little at the thought, feeling a slight lessening of his unease for the first time since he heard his father’s words.  He breathes out a thankful sigh.

“Yeah, baby.  I need you to science this for me.”

Even can hear the pleased hum from the other end of the line at the word ‘need’ and he smiles.  Isak’s smiling too; Even can hear it in his voice when he speaks again.

“You got this, baby.  I’m proud of you.”

For the first time, Even thinks he might deserve that.  He ran, yes.  Like he always does, like he always has.  But this time he’s actually going to go back and face this ‘like a man’ as Sonja had always insisted he should.  There’ll be no childish petulance today.  Not anymore, anyway.  It’s ironic that Sonja would be proud of him right now, too.  She and Isak are so different and yet there are some things about both of them that  _ are _ very much alike.

“Thanks, baby.  I’ll … I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Despite his good intentions, Even is shaking again as he pushes open the door.  This feels really big, like Even’s about to cross a threshold metaphorically as well as physically.  He slides in quietly, unwilling to disturb the peace until he’s got his breathing back under control and has calmed his racing heart.  He hovers on the home’s literal threshold, a silly nod to the momentousness of this occasion.  Even feels like he ran out of this place as a child and now he’s returning as a man, and there’s a need to acknowledge that.  He smiles at his own fancy, but even so he still feels it.  Feels the sense of how big a deal this is.

“Pappa?” he calls finally.  The word is small, but the meaning behind it is big and his father’s reaction shows he understands, too.

“Even?” The voice is incredulous and rings out loud in the stillness of the hallway.  His father appears around the kitchen door and stares at Even, his mouth dropped open in astonishment.  “I thought you left.”

“Yeah.  So did I.  But … I came back.  Is that … is that okay?”

“Of course it is.”

His father leads the way back into the kitchen where the cups of coffee still sit on the table, the wet swirls stark on the wood the only testament to the emotions that were raging.  Even smiles briefly at the sight.  It feels like a lifetime ago they were sitting there and Even’s world was being flipped upside down.  It’s ridiculous to think it was just a few short minutes ago.

“You want another cup?” his father says, gesturing to Even’s nearly-full mug.  It’s still warm; Even can see the steam rising languidly from the surface.

Even swallows and shakes his head.  “No.  I just … I’d like to talk a bit.”

“Okay.”  They sit down, still facing each other on opposite sides of the table, the physical barrier as large between them as the metaphorical one.  There’s a strained silence and Even once again doesn’t know where to start.  He stares at his father, trying to trace the knowledge in the lines of his face.  How does this even work?  If there are different Beasts, could there be different Beauties too?  How on earth do you find the right kind if there are variations?  Before Even’s thoughts can whirl even further out of control, his father speaks.  

“What do you want to know?”

“How reliable is the book?”

His father laughs.  “Straight to the point, huh?  Just like your mother.”  He thinks for a moment, his lip sucked into his mouth.  He finally turns back to Even when it’s getting awkward, when Even is starting to have an urge to squirm. “I think it’s probably not very reliable.  It’s a self-help book for parents of young Beasts.  But it’s a bit … a bit new-age.”

Even snorts at the idea of his father reading new age literature and his father gives him a reluctant nod in acknowledgement.

“I think maybe it’s a load of … what do you kids call it? crap?  But it made a lot of sense, too, you know?” There’s a pause as his father goes distant, his difficulty working through his thoughts clear in the lines on his face and the soft tap of his finger against the cup he’s holding.  Time ticks slowly by as Even waits; he knows it’s useless to push his father when he’s like this.  He needs the time to work through it before laying it out.  Eventually he decides where he wants to start. 

“It breaks Beasts down into groups and … and … they make sense.  I’ve only known you and your mother.  But she was the dead ringer for one group and you fit so perfectly into another.”

Another pause, but this time Even thinks his father wants his input, so he asks, “can I see it?”

“Of course.”

Looking pleased to have something tangible to do, Even’s father bustles off.  Distantly, from the hallway, Even can hear him rummaging in a cupboard, and by the sounds of it pulling the book out from the depths.  There’s a lot of clanking, and rustling and swearing.  Even frowns.  His father really is keeping this from his mother then.  That doesn’t make sense to Even; she has such a right to know and he can’t understand why her own husband wouldn’t tell her.  So when his father reenters the room and hands Even the book, he just turns it over in his hands a few times.

“Why haven’t you told Mamma?”

He doesn’t mean to sound accusatory, but Even can hear it in his own tone and he’s not surprised when an ugly flush rises up into his father’s cheeks and he looks away.

“Well, you know it would upset her …”

He looks shifty, but also small and vulnerable.  He’s out of his depth here, and Even can see the toll this is taking on him.  He softens his internal stance a little, lets the belligerence drain out of him.  As hard as this is for Even, it’s clearly also very difficult for his father.

“Pappa.  She … she has a right to know.”

“But what if it’s not true?  What if the book is wrong and I upset her for nothing?”

There’s a beseeching quality to his words and Even grimaces.  He understands that, too.  The desperation not to rock the boat, not to anger the Beast, is a strong one and his mother can be volatile.  But even so.  This idea feels right; as shocking and disconcerting as it has been, there’s something in Even that clicks with this information.  It’s like something has settled in his bones, something that finally says ‘yes, this is who I am.’

“I don’t think it’s wrong,” Even says now, as gently as he can.  His father is trying after all and he doesn’t deserve one of Even’s beastly rages.  “Anyway, I have Isak researching it.  If there’s something to find, he’ll find it.”

The snort that elicits makes Even smile.  He knows he sounds besotted, but it’s true.  Isak revels in this stuff.  He never rests until he’s absolutely certain something scientific is right.  If anyone can find out what the truth is, it’s him.  To pull the conversation away from his obvious fondness for his boyfriend, Even opens the book.   _ Understanding Your Teenage Beast, _ it’s called and he rolls his eyes at the title.  But the chapters are divided in a way that break down some of the usual beliefs about Beasts.  Fundamentals of beastliness.  Rages and why they happen.  How to calm a beastly child.  When Beasts are caring and affectionate.  Finally, he flips to the one he wants: Types of Beasts. 

Forgetting that his father is even sitting with him, Even begins to read.  It’s fascinating, starting with what is commonly understood to be the ‘usual’ Beast: aggressive, prone to anger, territorial, dominant.  It’s described as the ‘Alpha’ type and Even recognizes his mother in the descriptions.  The second type is meaningless to him.  It outlines someone who likes to work in a group, submissive to a dominant leader.  They call this the ‘Pack’ type.  He shakes his head.  That’s not him.  But the third type, well that’s a different story.  As he reads, Even’s body freezes in recognition.

_ The next type of Beast is often considered childish and immature.  They will play for hours on end, enjoying a boundless energy and a lust for life that is truly impressive.  If your Beast child is of this type, they will resist being ‘controlled’ and will have a very strong will of their own.  This type is often ill at ease with a traditional Beauty because they don’t want to be dominant or aggressive; they want to play.  They want to run wild and explore, and a typical Beauty will discourage this behavior.  These Beasts will still probably need help controlling their moods, but they will become resistant to the usual methods.  With these Beasts, it’s better to play with them or let them explore their world, settling them if needed only after letting them enjoy their energy in positive ways.  They can become worn down and unhappy if forced to act in a way that runs counter to this very deep instinct.  We call this type the Puppy, as they are so youthful and lively but also loyal and loving if allowed to blossom. _

Even puts the book down with shaking hands and looks up into his father’s face.

“Pappa,” he says, hearing his own voice break on the word.

His father nods, sadness sitting deep in his eyes.  “I know.”

Even sits for a long while, taking it all in.  His breath is coming in short pants and his heart is racing, hammering a loud beat against his ribcage.  He takes a few moments to control it, to force himself into a more even, regular pattern.  Even looks up at his father finally.  “There’s not something wrong with me?”

“No, Even, I don’t think so.  I think we’ve all been very wrong _ to _ you.”

Even breaks at that, finally allowing the emotions to cascade out.  The anger, the hurt, the betrayal he feels at how long he’s been forced to be something that’s probably not truly reflective of who he really is.  He’s crying, huge ugly sobs that are ripped out of him.  He puts his shaking hands over his face, unwilling to be seen in such a state, but leans into his father when he comes around the table and puts his arms around Even’s shoulders.  They cry together, mourning all the time Even has lost, the attempts to force him to be with Sonja, the lack of awareness of his true needs for so long.

 

It’s on wobbly legs that Even finally manages to push the door open to Isak’s flat an hour or so later.  If he’d been feeling bone weary before, now it’s overwhelming.  There’s a longing sitting deep inside him that makes Even just want to face plant into bed and never stir again.  He forces his legs to move and get him into Isak’s room.  As always when entering alone, he pauses at the doorway, smiling at what he sees inside.  Isak’s sitting cross-legged on the bed again, his brow furrowed and his mouth moving as he reads whatever it is he’s found.  Even always finds Isak beautiful, even now that they’ve been together for weeks and he should technically be used to it.  But today that beauty actually takes his breath away again.  There’s something in the curve of Isak’s body as it bends over the laptop, and the set of his jaw as he reads the information, taking it all in so carefully.  He grimaces and glares at the screen, and Even can’t help the tiny snort that escapes him as he watches.  

Isak’s head snaps up and the frown turns into a blinding grin, transforming the rigidly irritated lines of his body into soft happiness.

“Hey, baby.  How was it?”

Even sighs heavily, his thoughts dragged away from the many perfections of his boyfriend and onto the very difficult things he’s just learned today.

“I’m not sure.  The book is very … my dad called it new age, and that’s a pretty good summary.  I have it here if you want to read it.”  He walks over to the bed and falls onto it, making Isak bounce and the laptop shift alarmingly close to falling over the edge.  As he steadies it, Even adds, “but it seems … I dunno.  Almost legit.”

Isak nods, taking the book Even has casually thrown to him and starting to leaf through it.  “I think it could be legit, too.  There’s not much information out there, or not that I could find.”  He shoots a disgruntled glare at the computer again.  “But there are, you could say, more modern sites that are starting to toy with the idea.  No firm scientific evidence, at least not yet, but lots of anecdotal stuff.”  Isak looks thoughtful for a moment.  “You couldn’t really do a quantitative study on it, not with how many people wouldn’t like the idea, but maybe a qualitative study could back it up to start …”

He trails off, a new frown between his brows.  Even can see the thoughts circling in Isak’s head and he smiles again.  He loves how accepting Isak has been of all this stuff; none of this new information about Beasts has phased him at all and here he is already thinking of how he could verify the claims with a study.  It’s endearing.  Even sits up a little so he can pull Isak backwards into a hug.

“I love you,” he says into the warmth of the skin of Isak’s neck.  Isak relaxes back into him, and smiles, the joy in it visible even from Even’s position as he looks up at the face that he loves.  Isak turns his head and tilts it in the way that says, ‘kiss me please’ and Even can never resist that plea, so he moves up and captures Isak’s lips with his own.  It’s soft and it’s loving and Even hums into it, finally allowing himself to relax fully.   


They fall back onto the bed together and despite the early hour Even finds himself lulled into sleep by sweet kisses and gentle cuddles.  This whole thing with his type is still shocking and it scares him a little (a lot, if he’s truly honest) but here with Isak Even feels safe, and so he lets himself have this moment.  Isak’s curious, Even can feel it radiating off him, but he’s not pushing.  Perhaps he can sense Even’s hesitations or the way he’s feeling overwhelmed by the ideas he’s just been forced to consider.  Either way, Isak’s chillness is peaceful; it allows Even to let it all go for now too.  His body relaxes, the muscles shifting one by one from high-tension alertness to a boneless feeling of ease.  Isak’s fingers are in his hair, sweeping through in languorous motions, and Even can feel the tug of a smile on the corner of his lips as he drifts towards sleep.

 

That safety only lasts a short time.  The first hint that something is different comes as they walk into school on Monday.  Even’s used to the stares he gets, used to the calculating looks and the sly glances.  It’s usually because they’re weighing up their chances of getting with him, or wanting the cred of being seen with the cool new guy.  But today the glances are more disturbing.  There’s a vague dislike in them that sets Even’s heart racing and his hackles rising.  There are whispers behind hands and unkind laughs every now and again as people send looks towards him and Isak.

The next hint comes as Even slides into his seat in his first class.  The guy he usually sits next to in English grins and winks at him, confusing Even.  They’ve never had the kind of relationship where winks were an appropriate greeting.  He stares at the guy, his hands stilled on his books before he even gets them to the desk in front of him.

“Got yourself a little second year boyfriend, huh?”  

There’s a hint of judgement in the laughter that accompanies the words and Even gapes at the guy.  They’ve been so careful, so how the hell does he know that?  He decides to bluff his way out of it.  Even deliberately places the books down and straightens them, lining them all up along one edge, and keeping his gaze away from the guy as he does so.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says once he’s satisfied, trying to shrug it off.

The laughter this time is mocking, and the eyes that are trained on Even’s miss nothing, flicking all over his face and surely taking in the frown and the slight blush Even can feel heating his cheeks.

“Of course you do,” he says.  “People saw you at that party this weekend.  With that second year guy.  The whole school knows about it.”

Fuck.  Even can feel the color draining from his face as the guy grins again, taking his silence as confirmation.  There’s not much Even can do to quell these rumors; it’s clear they’re already everywhere and he can’t deny what he knows people could easily have seen; he and Isak haven’t been exactly cautious lately, as consumed by each other as they are.  So, in lieu of trying to correct the whole school, he does the next best thing.  He pulls out his phone.

_ Hey baby, _ he messages Isak.   _ Can you meet in the bathroom in a few minutes? _

_ That horny are you? _ is Isak’s flirty response, and Even groans internally.  Isak hasn’t noticed yet then, but he will soon and Even wants to be the one to tell him.

_ Always, but this is something else.  Can you come? _

_ 5 minutes.  I’ll be there. _

Even raises his hand and asks to go to the bathroom.  The teacher rolls her eyes but allows it and Even makes his way to the bathroom as fast as he can, his heart beating an erratic rhythm in his chest and a sick feeling in his stomach.  Isak arrives soon after and Even pulls him into a hug.  His arms are trembling, and he can feel the way Isak tenses as he takes it in.

“What’s the matter?” Isak asks immediately, wrapping his own arms around Even.

“They know,” Even says. “I’m sorry baby, but they know about us.”

Isak goes rigid in his arms and it feels like it’s only because Even’s holding him that his legs don’t totally give way and send him crashing to the ground.

“Who’s they?” He asks, his voice frantic.  “How do they know?”

“Baby.  Baby, it’s okay.”

Isak pulls away, shaking, and Even reluctantly lets him go.  He desperately wants to hold him and look after him, soothe this new worry away, but Isak is always clear with his needs and right now he apparently needs to pace.  Even follows him with his eyes as he makes short, abortive rushes up and down the narrow space.

“How can you say it’s okay?”

Three steps up, turn, stare beseechingly at Even, return.  He watches fascinated as Isak traces his exact steps over and over again.  Isak’s muttering to himself, angry reprimands that he should have been more careful, and Even reminds himself that he actually has to take part in this conversation.  He needs to jump in to stop this cycle of self recrimination Isak has set up.

“I just mean we can do this, together.”

“Together.”  Isak nods a little as he walks, visibly squaring his shoulders and sucking his breath in as his pace slows and the frantic edge to his movements drops.  “But how the fuck did they find out?”

“That … uh.  That party on Friday.  It seems like Sonja wasn’t the only one who saw us.”

Isak turns wide, horrified eyes on him.  “Fuck!”

His pace picks up again and Even reaches a hand out to stall him.  Isak stops, and allows himself to fall into Even’s embrace when Even holds his arms open for him.  Even’s tactful enough to ignore the wet patch he can feel on his neck where Isak’s face is pressed.  He runs soothing circles on Isak’s back and waits until he can feel him relaxing before he speaks.

“I mean it.  We can do this together.  And look at the bright side.”

“What bright side?” Isak groans into his neck.  “All the fucking people talking and gossiping?”

The pain in that voice drags a reluctant growl out of Even.  He’s always hated it when his partner is unhappy, and he’s particularly highly attuned to Isak’s moods.  He has an urge to levity and laughter now to cheer Isak up, and for once he lets it out.  He starts humming and allows his body to sway a little, in an imitation of dancing.  The movement dislodges Isak from Even’s shoulder, making him grumble a little as he takes a few steps out of the way.  Even takes the opportunity to get even more silly.  There’s no music, only Even’s humming, but Even doesn’t care if he looks like a fool.  He feels awkward, like this is possibly the dumbest thing he could do, and yet it also feels freeing.  Like this is how he’s meant to be: a dork, childish maybe but someone who can make others laugh and feel happier.  Someone who can make _ Isak _ laugh.  He sways more, bopping his head to a non-existent beat and sliding closer, allowing his body to brush against Isak’s.  Isak’s watching him, his brow raised and disbelief on his face.  

“No baby, not the gossip.”  Even says finally when Isak’s curiosity and frustration hit the perfect level: interested with his worries forgotten, but not yet at a point where he’s irritated.  Even’s eyes are alight as he dances right up against a now-intrigued Isak.  “I mean the kissing.  I can kiss you whenever you want me to now.”

That earns him a reluctant chuckle, and a shove.  “Is that all you can think about?”

Even shrugs, still moving his body in a way that’s earning him rolled eyes and huffed sighs.  “Well, I could lie and say no …”

Isak’s really laughing by now, his eyes alight and all semblance of worry gone.  “You’re such a fucking dork.”

“Yes, but I’m a dork who gets to kiss his boyfriend in public now, so I win.”

He emphasizes the point by capturing Isak’s lips with his own.  Isak hums into it, melting.  His hands move to wind into Even’s hair and Even moans softly.  His body is firing, skin lighting up as Isak’s hands move on him, slipping under his t-shirt.  He moans, and Isak’s hands clench a little tighter.

“I think I’m the winner here actually,” Isak says, his voice a little unsteady as he drags his lips away from Even’s, and Even laughs.  Isak’s tone gets husky and his eyes light with mischief as he continues with a wink.  “I get to kiss the hottest guy in school whenever I like, you can’t beat that.”

He suits action to word, though Even can tell there’s more bravado than true honesty behind the words.  The flush high on Isak’s cheeks and the defiant tilt of his chin is testament to that.  So he lets himself sink into the kiss, pours all his love and support into it, too.  His hands framing Isak’s face feel like the only way Even can let Isak know he’ll always be there.  He lets his thumbs run along Isak’s cheekbones, a small promise that he’ll be around whenever he’s needed.

Even’s worry is dissipating as Isak seems to calm a little as they break apart.  He’s under no apprehension that this is going to be easy.  As he’d reminded himself on the very first day after meeting Isak, society isn’t too keen on same gender relationships unless they’re within archetype.  But Even is confident enough (and enough in love, if he’s honest) to believe that he and Isak can succeed in this regardless of how their society feels about them.  Sonja’s words from all that time ago come back to him.   _ You know it’s not … not considered bad anymore, right?  Beasts are totally accepted, particularly among young people. _  Maybe that acceptance will transfer to same-gender relationships; they can only hope.  And maybe they can brazen it out anyway.  No-one here knows Even’s type yet, so maybe they’ll assume he’s an Outcast too.  There are rumors swirling, Even knows that, but no-one actually  _ knows _ anything yet.

“We don’t have to tell them I’m a Beast anyway,” he says now before kissing Isak again.  “Let them assume.”

Isak pulls back a little, a crease on his forehead again.  “Are you sure?  I’m not … not ashamed to not be in archetype.”

There’s a question there and Even blanches.  He hates that Isak is unsure like this, that Isak thinks that Even might be ashamed of him.  “No.  I’m not either, I promise.  I just … the idea of people knowing and judging.  I mean … I’m a Beast and outside archetype and … and not being with a girl.  It’s just … a lot.”  He takes a breath and smiles at Isak.  “Expectations suck, remember?”

Isak takes a breath and smiles.  It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but there’s understanding there.  “It’s okay.  I get it.  But, you know people are talking already, right?”

Even freezes, his insides flooded with fear as he thinks about it.  “Yeah, I know,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady.  “But they don’t know my type, it’s all just rumors.  So … so we can leave it like that.”

Isak nods, kisses Even once again, then sighs.  “I have to get back.  My teacher thinks I’m getting a book from my locker.”  He grins at Even.  “He thought I was really disorganized, but apparently it’s essential for this lesson, so.”

“He’s not going to be happy when you go back without it.  You should have used the bathroom excuse like me.”

Isak’s grin is cheeky this time.  “But that’s such a boring excuse; I like to use my master lying skills in better ways.”

He leads the way out of the bathroom, pushing Even when he reminds him that his ‘boring excuse’ at least doesn’t require corroborating evidence.  By the time they separate, Even is pretty sure that Isak is okay, if not exactly happy at the new turn of events.

The rest of the day until lunch is bearable, if not pleasant.  People whisper behind their hands, and Even gets more glances than usual, but he can cope with it.  One girl, clearly egged on by her friends, sidles up to him just as he’s sitting down in the cafeteria.  It’s practically empty, most students not having arrived yet, and Even had hoped for some peace but it seems it’s not to be.

“Are you Even?” the girl asks, her eyes wide and her voice high and nervous.

“Mmmm,” he says noncommittally.  She beams, however, as if he’s the best conversationalist she’s ever met.

“I just wanted to say that I think it’s lovely that you’re together with Isak.  It’s very good for our school to look progressive.”

Even internally rolls his eyes, but he smiles at her as benignly as he can.  It seems to do the trick and she bounces away, giggling when she reaches her friends and they stare over at him, nodding.

“Halla,” a voice says beside his ear, and Jonas’s pleasure in the way Even jumps as he looks up at the greeting is almost tangible.

“Hey,” Even gets out when his heart calms a little.

“Can I sit?”

In answer, Even kicks the chair next to him out and watches as Jonas sinks into it.

“I hear you’re out and proud now,” Jonas says without preamble and Even sighs, nodding.

“Not by choice,” he says and Jonas looks sympathetic.  But it’s obvious that Jonas isn’t here just to chat.  He is intent, and he has something he wants to say.  The aborted looks over at Even and the small frown on his face let Even know that.  Plus, there’s a slight wave of stress coming off him which tickles under Even’s skin.  It’s not enough to be intrusive, but it’s almost worse, this slight hint he’s getting.  Even shifts restlessly in his seat, trying to dispel the itchy feeling.

“I just want to be sure that Isak is okay, you know?”  

Jonas’s voice cuts into his thoughts.  It’s firm now, and there’s an edge to it.  Even can hear the Wise Man behind the tone and he shivers.  This definitely isn’t just a social chat then.  Even nods again.

Jonas is examining him, taking in the way he’s sitting and the way he twitches nervously at the scrutiny.  “There’s something else isn’t there?” Jonas asks now.  “You’re a …” he casts a quick look around to be sure no-one can overhear them, and drops his voice anyway.  “You’re a Beast, right?”

Even had expected to be desperately anxious, swamped with terror when someone asked him that question.  But from Jonas, so matter of fact and unconcerned, it comes as a breath of fresh air.  His body thinks about reacting, his hackles start to rise, but it’s easy to shut those responses down.  It’s easy to repress, to summon the cheerful smile he usually wears.  Even can feel the tension falling away as he agrees.  Jonas smiles as if he knows why Even is reacting the way he is.  He probably does, bloody Wise Man.

“I had my suspicions, you know, that day when we played FIFA and Isak was so protective of you.”

Even shrugs.  “I figured you did.”

He remembers that day, the way Jonas had tried to talk to him alone, how he had something he wanted to say without Isak.  How resigned he was when Even refused to talk behind Isak’s back.  He also remembers how Jonas had never said anything, not while Isak was there, and he’s tempted to bring it up again.  It’s still true, after all, that Isak should be involved in conversations which are about him.  Even’s opening his mouth to say exactly that, but Jonas stalls him.  His face reflects those memories too, and he touches Even’s arm lightly, a request to be heard.  So Even settles back, still on alert in case this is bad but willing to hear Jonas out this time.

“Do you know why Isak was like that?   _ Is _ like that, I guess.”

Whatever Even had been expecting, it wasn’t this.  He frowns.

“No.  I thought that was just him being nice.”

Jonas’s laugh rings out, loud and abrupt in the quiet of the room around them.  The few students who are scattered around the cafeteria look up at the sound but soon return to their own lunches.  Jonas is so genuinely amused that Even can’t help but grin back at him.

“You think Isak’s nice?” Jonas asks with a smirk.  “Wow, you’re further gone than I thought.”

Even blushes, his face warming at the insinuation.  But he tries to play it down.  “Nice way to talk about your best friend, Jonas.”

“I think Isak’s great, but ‘nice’ has never been a word I’d use to describe him.  Until …”

“Until?”

“Until you.”

Jonas sits back and gives Even that once over again.  It makes him uncomfortable and he shifts in his chair, feeling the wood of the seat biting into his legs as he tries to appear calm and secure.  It’s all that is keeping him grounded as the uncertainty calls up some beastly habits in Even.  He grips the chair’s seat with his fingers to try to keep himself under control.  Eventually Jonas’s lips tilt up into a smile.  He leans forward once more, conspiratorially, and starts talking again.

“There’s something I really do have to tell you about Outcasts now.”

Panic floods Even.  Jonas is so serious, so firm in his voice and mannerisms that Even thinks he’s going to tell him that they have to break up, that he’s bad for Isak now that the school knows about it all.  It seems like that level of intensity and Even’s ready to fight, to explain why they should stick it out, why they’re good for each other when Jonas speaks again, halting the panicky thoughts in their tracks.

“Okay, so, Even.  Outcasts are … hmm, on the edges, right?  They often don’t feel like they fit in anywhere.”

“Yeah.”  Even nods.  “I’ve noticed that myself.  Isak often talks like … well, like he deserves to be on the margins.”

He can feel the anger rising in him at that thought, at the memories it conjures, and Jonas breathes out, and gives him one slight affirming duck of his head as he notices Even’s expression.  He feels the concern over Isak’s tendency to take a lot of anxiety and pain onto himself, too, then.

“Well, because of that they tend to make their own little groups, right?  They draw a circle between their in groups and their out groups.  And … well, I can’t help but notice that Isak’s in group has shrunk a lot lately.”

Even squints at him, uncomprehending.  “What do you mean?”

Jonas rolls his eyes and for one small moment he looks so like Isak when he does it that Even laughs.  Jonas frowns and Even immediately stops laughing, feeling chastized.  Still not like that, then; Jonas isn’t in a mood to be silly.

“I  _ mean _ … his circle, his group, is now him and you.  So you better make sure he’s okay.  Because this … this thing with people knowing, it’s stressing him out.  And you’re the only one he really trusts now.”

That’s not true.  Even can hear the affection in Isak’s tone whenever he discusses his friends, the fond exasperation with some of their antics.  He knows Isak would be devastated if they ever had a serious falling out.  He shakes his head forcefully.  This is one thing Even is sure of.

“No, he still loves you guys.”

Jonas smiles a little at that.  “Yeah, I know.  But it’s different.  It’s an Outcast thing.  It’s hard to explain, and he’ll never thank me for telling you.  But I thought you should know.”

Even still doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand what Jonas is saying, what he’s hinting at.

“But what does it mean?  What do I do?”

“I guess it means … we’re his friends, but you’re on another level.  Isak, he doesn’t trust easily.  I’m sure you’ll have noticed him telling you stuff.”

Okay, Even can concede that.  But so what?  People tell other people stuff all the time.   _ Like you tell everyone you’re a Beast?  Or the way you delight in shouting about your bipolar, _ his mind supplies helpfully and Even grimaces.  This isn’t the same, and anyway he’s told Isak that stuff because he loves him.

“Like about his mother and moving out, you mean?” Even says, trying to quell his intrusive thoughts.

Jonas’s eyes widen, in a way that would be comical if this situation wasn’t feeling so damn serious.

“He’s told you about that?”

“Well yeah.  We were talking about stuff and it sort of came up.”

“I don’t think you understand how significant that is, Even.  Mahdi and Magnus don’t know about that.  Hell, I wouldn’t know about it except that I was there for a lot of it.”  His lips purse and he frowns as he looks Even over again.  “He’s really drawn you in, for sure.”

“You say this like it means something.”  Even’s still confused.  Isn’t this just what it’s like when you’re in love?  You tell each other stuff?

“It’s really hard to explain the difference, but it’s huge.  Outcasts don’t trust.  They just don’t.  They tend to find each other and make these circles up between themselves.  Others, like me … we get to be on the edges of that.  But no-one else usually gets inside.  Let alone gets to be the only one inside.”

“So it’s a difference between a friend and a … a bond between say a Beast and a Beauty then?”

“Maybe?  I don’t know how that all works.  The circles are usually more than just two people, though.  I don’t know why it’s so small in this case, maybe because you’re both out of archetype and he’s always been a bit reluctant to abide by rules.  But I just felt that you need to be aware that you’re in a privileged position and it’s not usual that non-Outcasts get there.  So … I guess, just don’t fuck it up.”

With that cheerful thought, Jonas gets up and saunters off, leaving Even paralyzed in his wake.  On one hand, it’s fucking amazing that Isak has also adopted non-archetypal connections to Even.  It gives him a sense of belonging that he hasn’t really felt before, of being accepted just exactly how he is.  On the other hand, it feels like he’s been handed a fragile treasure and barely has any idea how to handle it so he doesn’t damage it.  It’s fucking terrifying, and Even’s left trembling at the power of that responsibility and that trust.  It’s not like he didn’t know Isak trusted him, but there’s something  _ more _ somehow in what Jonas is saying.  That Even is it for Isak now, and that takes an incredible amount of trust which Even is still not sure he really deserves.

Even’s still sitting there contemplating what this all means when Isak slides into the seat next to him.  They stare at each other and there’s a complicated moment where they silently ask  _ do we touch now? _ And answer  _ I don’t fucking know. _  After several agonizing seconds, Isak’s fingers brush Even’s knee then slide away almost as quickly as they landed.  The touch settles Even anyway, and Isak looks calmer than he did earlier in the day.  Conversation drifts easily between them and time slips quickly until they have to head back to class.

Behind them, Even is aware of the building audience they’re getting as they chat.  With Jonas gone, and the other boys busy, it’s just the two of them.  Even’s well aware of how this looks and he mischievously wants to play with the people who’re busy concocting stories about what’s going on.  He knocks his knee into Isak’s and raises his brows.  By now Isak finds Even easy to read so he knows what he’s asking.  The rolled eyes and exasperated smile are enough for Even.  He licks his lips as Isak settles back into his chair in a show of nonchalance.

Even stands, and leans down.  He makes his gaze as intense as he can as he stares at Isak.  Isak’s breath hitches.  He knows this is just for show, and yet Even can’t help but respond, letting his lips form into a soft smile.  Isak’s eyes smile back at him and Even knows they’re closer to going into a feedback loop which could be disastrous right now.  So he clears his throat, bends so his lips are whispering by Isak’s ear before pulling back a little as if he’s just straightening up.

He reaches out as if he’s going to cup Isak’s cheek, but at the last minute drops his hand to his shoulder and squeezes, ostentatiously brushing something away and smirking at the suppressed giggles Isak’s trying to hold in.  Then he walks away, striding like he owns the cafeteria, acting like he sees no-one around him.  In reality he can see the students muttering together in his wake, can hear the puzzled murmurs they think they’re hiding from him.  He keeps his face as carefully neutral as he can until he’s outside the door when he allows himself one final, triumphant grin before heading to Norwegian.   
  


By the afternoon, Even has had it.  For a while it was fun to play with people, to neither confirm nor deny their relationship status and give a wide-eyed blank look when people insist they’ve been seen.  But now, all he wants to do is kiss Isak.  They’re suffering all the negative effects of people knowing (the whispers, the smirks, the snide comments), but none of the positive effects (the kissing, so much kissing, all the kissing they want).  So Even pulls his phone out and sends Isak a picture.  In it, two guys are kissing passionately.  It’s hot.  One guy’s eyes are closed as his tongue licks into the other guy’s mouth.  The other guy’s eyelashes are obviously fluttering shut as he wraps his hand behind the first guy’s head to pull him closer.

_ What I want to do with you right now,  _ Even texts.

He hears a laugh behind him and spins around to see Isak grinning at his phone.

“Halla, baby,” Isak says as he reaches Even.  

Then, to Even’s surprise, he imitates the guy with the fluttering lashes and reaches out to pull Even into a kiss.  Even’s a beat behind, not having expected this, so his reaction is slower, his eyes not closing until their lips are already connected.  His hands fly to Isak’s hips and he moans a little as Isak’s bury themselves in his hair.  He can hear a sharp intake of breath somewhere to his left, but he ignores it.  The kiss is over almost before it began, little more than a quick peck, but it sparks flames all over Even’s skin.  There’s something about Isak choosing to do this in public that intensifies the feelings and sends desire coursing right through Even’s body.

“Halla,” he whispers back as they part just far enough for their lips to separate but their foreheads to remain connected.

“You want to go home?” Isak asks, and Even breathes out a very speedy, “yeah,” making Isak laugh softly as he pulls away, dropping his hands only long enough to twine one of them with Even’s as they start to walk.

The stares they’re getting as they walk away are calculating now, and Isak glares at everyone who looks at them.  It fills Even’s heart and he grins, smirking at everyone in the wake of Isak’s glares.   _ That’s my fucking boyfriend, _ he wants to say to them.   _ He’s a fucking badass, so don’t mess with us. _

By the time they get home, Isak’s grip on his hand is possessive.  He’s aggressively staring down anyone who even thinks of looking at them.  One poor woman on the tram coughs as she catches his eye and the look he gives her makes her flush and drag her eyes away immediately.  Isak’s body has gone into the stance Even remembers from the very first day on the tram: confident and strong, but now Even can see the tension in it.  Then, he admired that cocky confidence, now he sees the vulnerability behind it.  

As helpless as this makes Even feel, it’s fascinating to watch.  Isak has always seemed so calm and easy going to Even, cocky and sarcastic at times, yes, but fundamentally chill.  Now, however, Even can see the aggression and anger that live underneath that.  He remembers the way Sana had sprung so rapidly to Even’s defence against faceless ill wishers in one of their early conversations, and he can see the same thing in Isak now.  It hits him again that it’s not just Beasts who have these impulses and feel these things.  As they walk, he squeezes Isak’s hand and gets a fond look in return, before Isak returns to his aggressive staring.  Even laughs, letting him be.

They shut the door behind them, and Isak rests back against it.  His eyes are closed and he’s breathing a little heavily.  

“Are you okay?’ Even asks, moving to his side and taking his hands.

Isak nods, huffing out a small laugh.  “Yeah.  I just … didn’t know what to do, you know?”

Even takes Isak’s face in his hands, and presses a kiss to his lips, letting Isak’s hands drop as he does so.  They settle at Even’s hips, a comforting familiar weight.  “I do, yeah,” Even says.  “But you were amazing.”

Isak rolls his eyes.  “You’re such a dick.  I was a paranoid asshole.”

“Maybe,” Even concedes, “but a very cute one.”

He kisses Isak again and this time rolls his hips into Isak’s.  The resulting gasp makes Even’s head swim.  Isak winds his hands in Even’s hair and tilts his head back so he can get a better angle on the kiss. His lips drag on Even’s, lingering kisses that make his blood boil almost instantly.  It’s been cold outside, so their hands and lips are a little chilled.  The contrast of the cool hands in his hair and the hot body pressed against his is affecting Even faster than he had anticipated.

“Baby,” he whispers, detaching his lips just far enough to get the words out.   


“Mmm?” Isak’s eyes are hooded and he seems far more interested in kissing again than talking.

“You know what I asked the other day?  You wanna … you wanna try it?”

Isak’s breath hitches and he pulls back a little to look Even firmly in the eyes.  He knows exactly what Even’s asking, apparently remembering the way Even reacted to being rimmed, and Even can feel him hard against his thigh. “You mean it?” Isak asks, cautiously enthusiastic.

Even’s dick twitches at the sight of Isak’s eyes, wide and glazed with lust, and he nods, breathlessly.  “I really do.”

By the time they’re in bed, Even is actually nervous.  It’s cold, much colder in here than in the living areas, and Even can see his breath misting in the air.  They had scampered across the room, discarding clothes as they went, leaping under the covers still in boxers and t-shirts because the floor was cold on their bare feet and standing still long enough to do justice to undressing was unthinkable.  As it is, they’re both shivering as they huddle under the duvet, and Isak’s arms are wrapped securely around Even’s body, but his warm body pressing against Even’s is still no defence against the frigid air.  

Even can feel Isak’s cock hard against his own and he shivers again, this time in anticipation.  He wants this, goes hot all over and weak at the knees every time he thinks of the feeling of having Isak’s hands and tongue in him, desperately wants to know what it will be like to have Isak’s cock inside him.  But there’s also a part of him that rebels at the idea of giving up control like this.  He knows it’s a remnant, leftover from the time when he thought a Beast had to be the one in control and from the memory of the way Sonja had demanded and controlled every aspect of their relationship apart from this one, where he got to set the pace at least in theory.

Isak notices, can probably feel the rigid tension sitting in Even’s muscles.  “We don’t have to do this, baby,” he says, leaning over Even and kissing him, letting his teeth snag briefly on the edge of Even’s lip then soothing it with his tongue.  Even groans.

“No, I want to.  I’m just ... “

“Mmm,” Isak agrees.  “It’s a big thing, I know.  But we’re here together and we can stop whenever.”

An overwhelming feeling of love swells up in Even and he grins.  He pulls Isak into a kiss, and it’s not long before he forgets to shiver, forgets to be cold as fire licks his body.  He’s still in awe of how this is, how much he  _ wants, _ all the time.  By now he’d expected to still want Isak, of course, that’s a given.  But hadn’t expected this still-consuming passion every time their gazes lock or their bodies brush together.

Isak’s taking this seriously.  His fingers are gentle as he runs them up under Even’s shirt and tugs a little, asking him to remove it.  Even laughs, surrendering to his ministrations and soon they’re lying bare skin on bare skin, the thin fabric of their boxers not enough to stop them from feeling every inch of each other as they rub together.  Even expects this to get more frantic now, but instead Isak slows down.  He sits back, the duvet around his shoulders as he stares down at Even and runs his hands over every inch of his body, worshipping.

Cold air trails in their wake and Even is a mixture of burning skin where Isak’s touching, and cooled, pebbled skin where the air is kissing behind the touches.  It’s exhilarating and frustrating and Even is soon writhing.  Isak smirks at him, his lips twisted in smug satisfaction as he keeps up his slow exploration of Even’s skin.  When he reaches his boxers, he raises his brows in question.

Even growls, a guttural moan following soon after as he wriggles, trying to get Isak to remove the offending article and just touch him already.  Isak’s teasing, though, his touch delicate over the fabric, dancing brief patterns along Even’s dick and he slides back to reach the skin on Even’s inner thighs.  The groan that pulls out of Even is embarrassing, and Isak preens, the cocky asshole.  He’s enjoying this, enjoying Even falling to pieces under him before he really touches him at all.

Finally, when Even can’t control the mutters he’s making, a ragged combination of ‘please’ and ‘baby’ and ‘Isak’ and ‘faen’, Isak takes pity on him and pulls the boxers off his dick, allowing it to spring up.  He’s aching and so rigid Even feels like it’d only take one stroke to push him over the edge.

“You still want this?” Isak asks, fake uncertainty in his voice.  Even can hear the smug knowledge behind the question that Even is so ready he’s moments away from begging.

“Fuck, yes, Isak.  Just … just shut up and do something.”

His voice is coming in short panting huffs and Even hisses in relief when Isak finally,  _ finally, _ touches him, wrapping his long fingers around Even’s length and giving a tug.  He slides down so he’s lying between Even’s legs, the duvet still over his shoulders, but with Even exposed to the cold air.  It’s actually a relief now, his overheated body craving the cool whisper of the air to keep him grounded as Isak takes him into his mouth.

Even’s caught up in the sensations flooding him as Isak’s warmth surrounds him.  It’s a vivid contrast with the cold skin on the rest of his body, and leaves Even shaking with desire.  He barely notices the first slick brush of Isak’s finger at his rim, but then it’s slipping inside and Even’s mouth falls open.  Having both feelings at once is so much that he can’t focus and is in danger of losing his ability to concentrate on anything.  Last time, Isak’s tongue was soft, pliant.  His finger is much more intrusive and the feeling is so much more intense.  Even’s so turned on, however, that it’s welcome, the breach feeling like fucking  _ finally _ and Even just grunts as Isak pushes it in. 

It’s so loving, the care Isak is taking, and Even feels treasured.   As worried as he had been about letting go, he’s finding this is better than he’d ever envisioned.  There’s no expectation that he’ll do anything other than let Isak experiment, and it’s freeing.  Even can relax, focus on the way Isak is still sucking on his dick sporadically while pressing his finger inside.  He’s free to live in the moment and it’s so intense that he reaches down to wind his fingers in Isak’s hair; anything to feel tethered to the moment in a more tangible way.  The strands are silky under his fingers and Even lets them cascade as he moves his fingers erratically, trying to match Isak’s movements but unable to focus long enough to replicate them.

Soon, another finger is added and this time there’s a slight twinge of pain and Even’s left gasping, his fingers gripping Isak’s hair tightly at the shock.  Isak looks up at him, his eyes concerned and Even shakes his head.

“It’s good, baby.  Just … slow, okay?”

Nodding, Isak keeps his eyes on Even’s while he continues.  His lips are reddened and slick and Even finds his attention caught by the way they glisten as Isak focuses on what he’s doing.  It takes his attention away from the burn, and it’s not long before Even is shaking again, heat fanning out into his body from Isak’s fingers and making him need more.  He whispers that need into the room, incoherent as he can’t keep his mind on any one sensation.  Isak understands, however, and reaches for a condom, his eyes loving as he keeps them on Even’s.

When Isak pushes into Even for the first time, carefully as if he thinks Even is fragile, Even is overcome with love.  Isak’s lip is caught between his teeth and he’s staring in avid concentration, making sure he’s lined up properly and isn’t going to hurt Even as he’s entering.  It calms Even a little, removes some of the dull pain, as he thinks about how much Isak is caring for him in this moment.  His entire focus is on Even and his comfort as he pushes slowly inside.  It takes time, and Even starts panting at least in part from the strange sensation of having something so large inside of him.  

Once he’s fully in, Isak looks up and catches Even’s eyes.  He grins, clearly relieved, and then moves Even’s leg a little, settles more comfortably between his thighs.  There’s love in Isak’s gaze, so much love and affection, and Even gasps with the intensity of it.  Then Isak begins to move and Even’s body lights up.  The change in position is enough for Isak to hit his prostate.  So now with every movement Even is soon panting harder and moaning Isak’s name.

As painful as it had been to start with, Even is now on fire again, every atom of his body aching for release, his dick rigid against his stomach.  He presses his hips against Isak, experimentally, as he pushes in and the resulting gasp and, “fuck, Even” emboldens him enough to do it again and again.  The rhythm builds and soon Even is desperate for release.  

“Touch me,” he gasps.  “I want … I need to come.  Baby …”

Isak’s hips stutter a little as he tries to match his hand’s movements on Even’s dick to his body’s as he thrusts inside him but he soon has the rhythm again and it doesn’t take long before Even feels his release coming, body tensing up before it’s shooting out and landing on Isak’s hand.  It’s intense, feels different to anything else Even’s felt before, and Isak’s presence still inside him makes it even more all-encompassing.  About a minute later Even is finally present enough to admire Isak as he shudders through his own orgasm.  There’s not a day that Even doesn’t admire Isak, but today, here like this, his feelings swamp him and he can’t help but breathe his devotion into Isak’s shoulder.   Isak moves so he can lay his head against Even’s forehead, then laughs weakly.

“Fuck, baby …”

It’s all he can get out before he drops a tired kiss onto Even’s lips.  Even’s body is lit up, every point reacting to Isak’s touch, and he loves this feeling of Isak being still buried inside him.  The connection is comforting now and Even doesn’t want Isak to ever move away.  He groans his displeasure when Isak starts to pull out, and is delighted with Isak’s breathy laugh as he stills for a moment to kiss Even again.  He tries to keep him in place, but Isak wriggles enough as they kiss to start to dislodge himself and the resulting laugh ends with him slipping completely out.

Once he’s disposed of the condom, Isak flops down beside Even and cuddles into his chest.  Even can feel the tension of the day completely dissipate now.  None of that matters with Isak here by his side.  They’re sticky with sweat and drying come, but Even doesn’t care.  He pulls the covers over them again, the chill seeping back in now they’re finished.  He knows they’re going to have to wash them later, knows Isak is going to grumble about messing them up  _ again, Even, why can’t we just be sensible? _ but right now he wants to stay in this moment, loving and being loved by Isak.

Even presses a kiss to Isak’s curls, marvelling, as he so often does, that he gets to have him here by his side.  Isak sighs, contentment sounding in the soft noise and Even smiles.

Just as Even is settling down, his arms wrapped around Isak and his heart light and happy, Isak sits bolt upright next to him and yells, “fuck!”

Startled, Even follows suit, reaching his hand out towards Isak as if to calm him.  He has no idea what’s going on, but Isak is agitated and scrabbling to get off the bed.  He thumps to the floor, his feet heavy in a way Even knows is going to annoy their downstairs neighbor.  Then he’s cursing as he rifles through his backpack in search of something.  After the initial outburst, Isak is now his usual sweary self so Even lies back down on the assumption that Isak isn’t actually hurt or emotionally compromised in any way, but just annoyed about something.  

He rolls over onto his side and peers over the edge of the bed so he can admire Isak’s back and ass as he bends over the bag, taking in the way his muscles gleam as they move under his skin.  It’s times like these that Even really appreciates Isak’s tendency to work out when he’s stressed.  His body is so beautiful that Even hums in appreciation as he watches.

“You finished ogling?” Isak asks as he stands back up and moves towards the bed.

Even settles back down and grins at Isak, his hand slung behind his head and the duvet pooling at his waist.  It’s a bit colder than he’d like, but there’s part of him that wants to show his body to Isak as well.  Wants to make Isak react to him as much as he reacts to Isak.  That part is rewarded by the lazy lick of the lips Even gets as Isak’s eyes drift slowly up from the duvet to his face.

“I’m never finished ogling,” Even says finally.  It sounds trite, like a stupid joke, but it’s the truth.  Even will never tire of looking at Isak, of admiring Isak, of drawing pictures celebrating Isak.

“Well, move over and give me some space.  You’re finished now.”

Even obliges, making room for Isak to slide under the covers with him again.  Isak ends up sitting with his back against the wall and his leg pressed alongside Even’s arm.  His hip ends up close to Even’s cheek where it rests on the pillow.  Once he’s happily in place, Isak makes a show of holding up the prize he’d been searching for in his bag.  Even looks up and what he sees makes him grin.

“What’s this for?” Even asks as he sits up too, reaching to take the joint out of Isak’s hand.

Isak pulls his hand away, an expression of shock on his face.  “I’m wounded, Even.  You don’t remember what today is?”  

There’s laughter behind his eyes and he can’t hold the serious face for long.  Even grumbles, trying to get the joint from Isak who just holds it further out of his reach and blocks his attempts to grab it with his body.  Eventually, Even gives in, sitting back disgruntled and Isak lights it up.

“I’m supposed to know today?”

Isak’s eyes go soft as he passes the joint to Even and kisses him as their fingers touch.  “Today’s three months since we first smoked together.”

“Oh.”  Even’s stunned.  Both because it’s been that long and that Isak remembers it so clearly.

“Mmmm, I remember being so nervous that day.  You were so hot and cool and amazing and it took all my courage to follow you onto that tram and say hi.”

“But you got on at a later stop…”

Isak laughs, his face lit up with delight, presumably happy that Even’s memories of that day are as vivid as his own.  Even knows the feeling.  Every day, Isak says something that surprises Even with the depth of his feelings and it makes him fall even deeper in love every single time.  He figures he’s basically fucked now, resigns himself to the knowledge that he will always be hopelessly in love with Isak Valtersen.

“I knew which tram you take and I watched you go in that direction, then ran.  Took a gamble that you’d be on it when I got on.”

“Fuck,” Even says, taking another drag of the weed before passing it to Isak.  “That’s intense.”  He means both the weed and the idea that Isak was so interested that he followed Even.  There’s something so all-consuming in the knowledge that Isak was taking just as much note of him as he was of Isak.

They’re silent for a few moments, letting the smoke billow around them, feeling the slide into relaxation and relief from the cares of the everyday.

“I was so sure you were an Outcast,” Isak says, his eyes closed and a gentle smile on his lips.  “I couldn’t believe my luck.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Even says.  The sadness he can hear in his own voice reaches Isak too, and he opens his eyes again, turning his head slightly so he can examine Even.  He smiles, a small beauty that washes away all Even’s worries.  He still marvels at how easily Isak does that.  He can be on the other side of a room and his smile still settles something in Even.  He’s smiling himself when he says, “I wanted to, even that day, but I was scared I’d lose you before I even really knew you.”

Isak shrugs.  “It’s not important.  Not now.”  He’s comfortable now, looking chill as he leans his head back against the wall and takes a hit.  The long curve of his neck is on full display and Even has to kiss it. He looks at Isak and there’s such an intense feeling of joy welling up that he can’t control it.  It floods him, and he finds it a little overwhelming.  To distract himself, he starts a new line of conversation.

“Jonas told me something today,” Even says, feeling so mellow he forgets he should maybe ease into this particular conversation.  “About Outcasts.”

Isak stiffens, and Even suddenly remembers that he doesn’t like people talking behind his back.   _ Shit, _ he thinks.   _ I’m fucking this up. _

“It’s not bad, just interesting,” he says, hoping that will calm Isak.  He scowls instead, his eyes sharp as they look at Even, so Even hurries on.  “He said you make groups of people and … something about shutting out others?  I didn’t really understand it?”

The speed with which Isak relaxes now is staggering.  His fingers which had just been shaking are firm now as he takes a drag and then passes the weed back to Even.  The tension  _ was _ all due to Isak’s dislike of being talked about, then.  As an Outcast, he’s always been concerned about fitting in, and been sensitive to the idea that people could exclude him from discussions about him.  Even has known that instinctively, known he should try to include Isak in any discussions about him.  This confirmation means a lot though, and Even resolves never again to let Jonas do what he did today.

“Yeah.  I don’t really understand it either,” Isak says after a moment’s silence as he smokes again.  “It never really happened before … well, before you.”

“Jonas said your group shrunk.”

Isak shakes his head, flushing.  There’s a twist to his mouth that speaks of a lot of pain around this idea and Even shudders.  He hates thinking about Isak suffering before they met. “Nah,” Isak says, confirming Even’s suspicions.  “I kind of might have let him think I had a group.  You know … before everything.  It’s like there were all these people pitying me because I was alone, and I couldn’t stand it.”

Even nods.  He remembers the feeling too well, is instantly thrown back to the moment when Yousef stood silent outside Elias’s house and pitied Even.  He feels swamped again with the shame and the agony of feeling like someone saw him as an object of pity, as someone who didn’t have it together.  He grips Isak’s hand in silent support.  Isak smiles now, and this time he’s radiant as he reflects Even’s love back to him.

“We do have a tendency to gather together.  There was this one girl, Jesus fuck she was annoying.  She kept coming on to me at parties and stuff and assumed we’d be together because we’re both Outcasts.  I hated it.”  He grins ruefully, eyes hardening as he remembers that time.  “I kind of … used her, I guess.  To look like I had it all under control.  And she had these friends and they were Outcasts too and so people assumed they were my group.”  He shrugs.  “They weren’t.  I never had a group.”  He looks at Even, his eyes intense again.  “Until now.”

“But Jonas said your groups are usually Outcasts…”

“Jonas is a dick sometimes, baby.  He thinks because he’s a Wise Man that he knows everything.”  Isak laughs and presses a kiss to Even’s lips.  The weed has burned down while they were talking and Even is only able to take one last hit before it’s too small and he reluctantly has to stub it out.  “He doesn’t know everything.”

Smiling, Even tucks his arm around behind Isak’s shoulder.  Isak leans into the embrace, breathing in the last vestiges of the smoke as it dissipates in the air.  Even kisses him again and tastes the weed on his lips.  He feels really peaceful and happy here now.  It’s cold, his body is starting to feel it, but he doesn’t want to move and disturb this thing they’ve crafted out of weed and honesty.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Even says wistfully.  He’s missed it, smoking.  Missed the feeling of bonelessness and invincibility that he gets from it.  Missed the way he can be more open, talk more fluidly, feel less self conscious about everything.  But he knows it’s not good for him.

“Hmm?” Isak’s mellow now too, his legs tangled in Even’s and his head heavy on his shoulder.

“Weed.  It can trigger my bipolar,” Even says.  “But it pushes the Beast right down, and it’s so nice not having those feelings.”

“But you’re a Puppy anyway,” Isak says, his voice amused, teasing Even with the title.  “It might not matter so much.”

“You read it?”

“Mmm, I did.”  Isak’s suddenly a little more alert.  “It makes so much sense, baby.  I don’t care if there’s no other evidence, I’m pretty sure it’s right.”  He snuggles deeper.  “I’m going to find evidence one day.”

“That’d be nice, baby.”

“I’m so nice,” Isak says as he drifts off to sleep.  “The nicest.”

_ Yeah, _ Even thinks as he wriggles so they both slide down into more comfortable positions in the bed, despite Isak’s muffled grumbles,  _ Isak really is the nicest. _  And Even’s happy to be in his group, even if he’s not really sure how he got there or why.  It’s a privilege he’s not going to take lightly.


	10. Chapter 10

The next few days at school are excruciating.  Whether together or apart, Even and Isak are the subjects of a lot of attention.  It’s not unkind, exactly, but it’s so constant that Even can feel it weighing him down.  It’s almost solid, the attention from the gazes that lay on his shoulders.  And for every weight he feels, Even can tell Isak is faring worse.  He’s pale again, his eyes ringed with dark circles and his dress sense has dropped from ‘casual but stylish’ to ‘casual because it’s what was close by this morning’ and Even is concerned.  He spends his nights with Isak in their bed, waking every few hours because Isak is so restless in his sleep that he ends up kicking Even or pulling the blankets off.

He takes care, then, to be as present as he can for Isak.  He holds his hand, rubbing his fingers as soothingly as he can over Isak’s knuckles.  Even doesn’t miss the way Jonas and the other boys hover, too.  They ghost beside Even and Isak, a barrier between them and the rest of the school.  Mahdi uses his charm to fend off any unwelcome approaches in such a way that the students involved have no idea they’ve been firmly rejected.  Magnus watches everything, then plays up to his reputation as the silly one all while stating the situation as baldly as possible.  People soon get tired of trying to get him to talk ‘sense’ about what’s happening and leave them alone.  And Jonas … Jonas turns his formidable knowledge and passion into long rants whenever anyone dares to question him about Isak.

Isak barely seems to notice, as exhausted as he is, but Even sees and knows and is grateful.  He makes sure he acknowledges the boys every chance he gets.  It feels so welcoming, like Even finally has a place again.  He knows the boys are mostly here for Isak and he can’t resent it, but he also knows they care for him too and that they’ll protect him from anything that comes his way.  It eases his mind a little as the rumors about his beastliness start to swirl as well.  As scandalous or intriguing as the school finds the idea of two boys together, they’re positively vibrating with excited murmurs at the idea that they might be out of archetype, and one of them even a Beast!  The knowledge that if it gets too much, the boys will step in, enables Even to relax and focus on ensuring Isak’s comfort.

The pressure of being so present for Isak, however, is taking its toll.  Even can feel his own clothes starting to sit looser on him and the fear that presses icicles into his heart.  He’s ignored his need to find a new therapist for a while now, telling himself he’ll find someone when he needs it.  The day he comes home, vibrating with rage because some asshole has said something which upset Isak and it takes several minutes to calm himself down, is the day he decides he has to follow up on his own needs.  The last thing he wants is to slip into old habits.

So he pulls out the worn scrap of paper with the number the school doctor gave him and before he can overthink, he quickly dials.  It connects almost immediately, and Even’s hands are shaking when he stumbles through explaining what he wants.  To his relief, the therapist has an opening a few days later and the person he’s talking to is matter of fact and practical as she takes his details and wishes him a good day.

That doesn’t make it easy, and Even hovers on the doorstep of the building when his appointed time comes.  His hands are trembling and he stuffs them deep into his pockets to avoid anyone else seeing them as he pushes through and steps inside.  For some reason, it feels imperative that Even not be perceived as weak, which is ridiculous considering that everyone who comes in here must be vulnerable in some way.  It’s not like Even’s an exception, but the memory of his old therapist is so vivid, her disdain for his impulses so thoroughly seared into his mind, that Even can’t bring himself to look like he needs this.

It takes a while to find the right office on the right floor and by the time he does, Even is close to panic.  He wishes, in hindsight, that he’d told someone (Isak) he was doing this and had someone (Isak) here to help get him there.  But he didn’t and so he doesn’t.  He’s alone.  It takes a deep breath and a stern talking to to make himself enter.

The waiting room is homely, with worn couches which look lived in and a few potted plants dotted around the room.  The receptionist is behind a small glass window in a wooden wall and she’s smiling at him expectantly.

“You must be Even,” she says.

“Yes, Even,” he says holding his hand out to shake hers and she laughs.  She takes it briefly and nods to him.

“Doctor Jensen will be out shortly; she’s just finishing up with someone else.”  She waves in the direction of one of the couches.  “Take a seat.  There’s some books and things which people find interesting, I think.”

Even can’t sit still, though, so he paces a little, studying the pictures that hang on the walls.  They’re all vaguely comforting, radiating a sense of peace and harmony.  It’s the colors, he thinks.  They’re very carefully chosen blues and pinks.  He smiles, thinking he should draw or paint again and try to replicate some of this feeling.  It’s good, nice, and for the first time in what seems like months, Even feels the urge to pick up a pen.  He realizes he hasn’t touched his art since his manic episode and he hums thoughtfully to himself.  The memory of all the dicks doesn’t feel so shameful anymore, and Even thinks he could maybe try again.

“Even?” A voice behind him asks, and he starts a little before spinning to look at her.  “I’m Doctor Jensen,” she adds, ignoring his startled gasp as she smiles at him.  “Or Marit, if you prefer.  It’s very good to meet you.  This way.”  She leads him towards an office that’s tucked behind the receptionist.

Her manner as she seats him is so calming that Even relaxes a little as she runs through the general rules that will cover their sessions.  It’s not enough to settle him entirely, but enough that his near-panic of earlier has dissipated and he feels what he recognizes as more normal nerves.  He’s still perched on the edge of the chair, his hands clasped between his legs and acutely conscious of every inch of his body.

“I want you to feel comfortable here, Even,” she says after watching him for a moment or two.  “So today we’re just going to to do a bit of getting to know you, okay?”

He nods, the movement feeling stiff and jerky.  “Okay,” he gets out through a throat that sounds scratchy even to his own ears.

“I understand I’m not the first therapist you’ve seen?”

“No.”  he clears his throat again, still feeling the scratchy dryness.  “No.  The other one didn’t … uh.  Didn’t work out.”

“Okay,” she says, and Even can once again hear the understanding in her tone.  Just as had happened with the school doctor, Even finds that tone calming him.  He has a feeling she isn’t going to make the same sorts of judgements the other one did.  But before he allows himself to relax fully, Even decides to test her.

“I … uh.  I’m not really just here about my disorder.  I’m … she was okay with that stuff.  She wasn’t so good with … with my type, and my chosen partner.”

He chances a look up at her and finds a warmth lingering in her gaze as she looks at him.  “That sounds pretty awful, Even.  You’re a Beast?”

He nods an affirmation and she jots down a note on her pad, then sits back a little.  “Is there something you want me to know about that?”

“I’m not with a Beauty, and some people are a bit shit about it.”

“Ah.”  She nods in understanding.  “Can I let you in on a secret, Even?”  At his nod, she smiles and says, “I think some of that type stuff is a load of garbage.  I think we should be with people who help us no matter what type they are.  What do you think?”

“Yeah.”  He takes a breath.  “Yeah I think so.  And Isak … he’s very good to me.”

“I’m glad, Even.  It’s very important to have good people around us.”

The relief Even feels that she’s heard this and not only accepted it, but encouraged it … it’s a lot and he can feel a lump welling up in his throat.

“Okay, Even” she says after a few moments which let Even compose himself.  “What do you enjoy doing?  What’s fun for you?”

Flushing, Even casts around for anything that isn’t ‘having sex with my boyfriend as much as I can’ and he remembers the moment in the waiting room.

“I like to draw,” he says.  “And paint a bit.  And maybe …”

“Maybe what, Even?”

This is something he doesn’t really talk about much, but he’s decided he has to be honest with this therapist.  She’s already much easier to get along with than the old one and he really should start as he means to go on.  He really should start with total honesty.  It’s worked with Isak, and he thinks he needs it for this to be any good and not just a thing he does to appease his parents.  So he sighs, steadies his hands and looks up at her.

“Maybe making movies?”  It rushes out before he can stop it, so he takes another steadying breath and adds, “I was doing some stuff with that before … before I had to change schools and I loved it.  But.”  He stops, sighing as he remembers everything that led to, and followed from, that horrible day.  “But, I haven’t really tried again since I left.”

Doctor Jensen’s face lights up, and she’s smiling.  “I love movies.  There’s something so magical about being able to escape to another place for a few hours.”

“Yeah,” Even agrees.  “And making them … you know, normally it’s like other people have a lot of control in your life, and … and so when you make a movie you have all the control.  You can direct it, choose it, make it do what you want.”

“You don’t think you can do what you want with your own life, Even?”

He shakes his head.  It’s a given, obvious.  In a world where he’s expected to be with a Beauty, and have her (or him) control his emotions, of course he feels like he has no control in his own destiny.  He tells her as much.

“That’s interesting.  Didn’t you say you’re not with a Beauty now?”

Even can feel his face softening, can feel the fond smile that plays around his lips as he answers.  “Yeah.  Isak’s an Outcast, and he never tries to control me.”

She notes that down while she says, “I see.  And how does that make you feel?”

Even smiles, can’t help the feeling of happiness that wells up in him just at the thought of Isak.  He sits back a little, lets himself relax.  “Free.  Like … I don’t know, like I escaped a prison.”

“So in fact, you took some control of your own life and you liked it.”

“Mmmm, I did,” he agrees.  “I used to be with a Beauty, but it wasn’t really good particularly when she was controlling.  I’m happier now, definitely.  But …”

She grimaces a little, sympathetically, then smiles.  “Oh, there’s always a ‘but’ isn’t there?  Something’s off?  This is why you’ve come here?”

Even hadn’t intended to get into this right now, not today.  But it seems right. Marit is someone he feels comfortable with already and this is natural to talk about.  So he nods.

“People at school, they know now.  About me and Isak.  And it’s pretty bad, the way they’re being.  And … and I think they know about me being a Beast.”

She looks at him carefully, her eyes sliding over his body and taking in how tense he’s become again.  Even becomes aware of his hands shaking again and curses himself.  He tries to still them, with limited success, as he drags his eyes away from her.

“Would that be so bad? People knowing?  What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

Even let his breath whistle out between his teeth again.  He’s made his way back to the edge of the chair and is perched awkwardly, still trying to stem the shaking in his hands.  He’s not looking at her.

“I’m so angry with them, with the way they’re making Isak feel, that I’m getting rages again.  And now it’s hard to keep them down again.  I was doing so well, but now I feel like I’ve failed … like I’ve lost control.  And they’re all going to know about the Beast and they’re all going to think I’m like that always.  Because I keep getting into the rages.”

She sits forward, forcing him to look at her again.

“Ah, but the thing is you  _ haven’t _ lost control, Even.  You have been able to keep the rages down.  That’s not easy and I’m impressed you can do that on your own.  Most Beasts I see don’t even want to try, let alone succeed.”

Even smiles, feeling warm at the praise.  It’s not something he’s used to, in general.  In fact, there’s only one person who’s ever said anything similar to him before.

“Isak said something like that once.”  He can’t keep the fondness and affection out of his voice, and she smiles at him gently.

“This Isak sounds like a very smart boy.”  Even’s smile deepens as she says it, and he watches her sit back again before she continues.  “But, I want you to think about something, okay?  They can’t ‘make’ Isak feel anything.  He’s in charge of his own feelings, just as much as you are of yours.  You can’t protect him from that.”

“But he’s so sad and angry all the time.”

“Yes, and you can be there for him and help him with those feelings.  But you can’t stop them, any more than your Beauty could stop your feelings.  It can only end with resentment if you try.”

Even starts at that.  It rings very true to him; he’d been so unhappy with Sonja for so long because she tried to regulate him out of being who he was in his heart.  The idea that he might end up doing that to Isak is scary.  She smiles as if she knows what he’s thinking.

“Being there for your partner, supporting him, that’s not what I’m talking about.  But allowing yourself to take on his anger, and letting it out in rages?  That’s not healthy, Even, and maybe that’s something to keep in mind.”

“Okay.”  Even nods.  “I’ll … I’ll try.”

“And again, you should be proud of yourself.  Taming your own rages is very impressive and shows a lot about your character.”

Even blushes, can’t quite accept the compliment.  But he feels warmer, as if he can finally be himself here.  His old therapist had been so rigid and judgemental that it’s nice to be with someone who lets him know he’s okay as he is, but promises to help when he needs it.

The conversation drifts back to a lighter tone, more focused on getting to know Even and his likes and dislikes.  By the end of the session, he’s feeling happier and he thanks Marit profusely as he leaves.  She smiles, tells him to make another appointment and that she’s looking forward to working with him.  He leaves with a smile on his face and lightness in his heart.

When Even gets home, Isak is curled up on the bed with his school books out and a scowl on his face.  His laptop is open beside him, but it’s not active, so Isak’s focus has clearly been on the books for at least a short while.  He’s in a t-shirt and jeans, which should be cold in this weather, but the room isn’t as chilled as it can be sometimes.  Isak’s so focused on his work that he doesn’t notice Even at all.  Even stills in the doorway, unwrapping his scarf and shucking off his jacket.  He stands there for a long moment, admiring this boy who has inexplicably chosen to stay with Even despite everything.  He still looks unhappy, and it still twists Even’s heart, but Marit’s words resonate in his brain and he tries to remember them instead of allowing the beastly instinct to protect to rise in him.  There are still traces of black marks under Isak’s eyes, and his face is still a little pale and drawn, but he doesn’t look as bad as he did the first days after they were found out.  He’s so focused on his study that Even is able to stand for several long seconds before he calls attention to himself by clearing his throat.

Isak glances up, an irritated expression on his face as if he expects Eskild to be there ready to harrass him about whatever little thing he’s decided on now.  When he catches sight of Even, however, Isak’s face lights up.  His eyes glow and the tired slump of his shoulders disappears.  Even is struck again by how thoroughly Isak has thrown his lot in with Even.  It’s there in his eyes and in his voice when he says, “halla baby” as Even moves towards the bed.  The idea that this has something to do with the Outcast habit of group creation still awes Even.  He doesn’t feel worthy of this level of devotion, but he loves it anyway.  

Once he gets to the bed, he climbs on and wraps his arms around Isak, making him giggle as they fall down together, his books scrunching underneath them.  Isak’s laugh is a sound which Even will never tire of hearing, joyous and unrestrained.  It sets something light and easy fluttering inside him, too.  He thinks, for a moment of instinctive reaction, about hiding it and pressing it back down inside for fear of being seen as too childish, but then his fingers graze Isak’s side accidentally and the high pitched screaming giggle that erupts is so enticing that Even throws that idea to the wind.  He pulls Isak against him, simultaneously peppering kisses all over his face and slipping his fingers under the t-shirt he’s wearing to tickle the spots he knows are particularly sensitive.

The resulting writhing from Isak both eggs Even on in his tickling and reminds him of the day so long ago when they ran to a park and wrestled as an excuse to touch well before either of them really knew what could be between them.  The memory sparks the same sort of desire that Even felt then.  He remembers the way his skin lit up as if with flares wherever Isak touched him then, and feels the same sensations now as Isak tickles him in retaliation. However, rather than pulling back and forcing himself into some sort of friendly and platonic state, Even lets himself give in to it.  The kisses turn from silly distractions to hungry declarations of intent.  Isak follows his lead, licking at Even’s lips with his tongue, and growling with need when Even lets them slip open.

Even rests his hands on Isak’s sides purposefully now, sliding with  _ want _ and  _ need _ up his body until the t-shirt fabric is bunched around Isak’s armpits and he’s sniggering against Even’s mouth.

“Are you hinting at something?”  Isak asks, his eyes wide and pretending innocence.  Their lips are so close together that Even feels the words as breath on his own and he shivers with the need he’s feeling now.

“Only if you want something too,” Even says, his lips still close to Isak’s and their breath mingling.  

“I always want something,” Isak says, the smile he’s giving Even so fond that it belies the sarcasm in the tone of his voice.  “I’m pretty much a sure bet for you.”

Laughing, Even whispers, “it’s still nice to ask,” and Isak laughs, too, at the memory.

He drags Even’s head back down and gives him a searing kiss.  “What … what do you want today?” he asks when they separate again, his breath hitching as their gazes connect.

“You.  Always you.”  Even’s too happy to try to tone down the cheesiness of his words and he’s rewarded with one of Isak’s fondest eye rolls.

“Asshole,” he says, pushing Even until he has him on his back, then straddles him.  “I’ll decide then.”

And that, Even thinks, is actually totally fine by him.  He watches, his eyes raking over Isak’s body, as Isak pulls his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor beside the bed.  Then obliges as Isak pulls on his own, lifting himself enough so Isak can remove it and throw in the direction his own went.  It’s cool in the room, and Isak’s skin is soon pebbling where the chilled air is hitting it.  Even reaches out and traces the small bumps, and smiles as Isak’s eyes close and he shivers at the touch.

Isak leans down to kiss Even, making sure to press their bodies together as he does so, and Even shudders himself as he feels Isak hard against his leg.  He wants, and he wants it  _ right fucking now. _  This is a new feeling for him with Isak.  It’s a new feeling in general, if Even’s honest -- wanting sex, needing it, and not wanting to take his time.  With Sonja, Even often wanted it over fast but it wasn’t generally because he was so overtaken with desire but rather because he felt so constrained by the aggressive nature of their encounters.  Here, today, Even is overwhelmed by the intensity of his need.  Isak grins at him as if he can read his thoughts.  Kisses him hard, presses down so they rub together.  Even moans, tipping his head back, then groans as Isak scrapes his teeth gently down his neck.

“Fuck, baby …” Even manages to grate out.  

“Oh?  You want something now?” Isak’s teasing, nipping small kisses on Even’s neck which are making his blood boil, his dick ache and his head swim.

“I just want … I want … fuck, I need to touch you.”

Isak takes pity on him, smiling as he sits up and moves enough so he can remove both sets of pants.  Soon they’re blissfully naked and Even is dragging Isak down to him with an energy he hasn’t felt in a long time.  Clearly surprised at the speed and intensity, Isak nevertheless goes willingly and they end up pressed together again, Even’s legs wrapped around Isak … he’s not even sure why, probably to keep him close enough that Even can get a little friction on his aching dick.

It’s not enough and Even groans in frustration as they don’t quite get enough rhythm to generate what he needs.  Again, Isak seems to get it.  He rolls to the side and reaches into the drawer of the nightstand.  He chuckles a little at Even’s irritated groan, and grins over his shoulder at him.

“Someone’s keen today,” he says as he sits back with the lube in his hand and a smirk on his face.  Even wriggles, trying to get Isak to sit the fuck down again already and earns himself another smile.  “All in good time, baby.”

He lies down facing Even, causing Even to turn on his side, too, like a fucking magnet drawn to Isak.  He’d be a little disconcerted by how whipped he is, Even thinks, if he didn’t enjoy it so much.  Isak slides forward, slotting their legs together and aligning their dicks.  He kisses Even, slow and sweet, as he takes them both in his hand.  Even’s moan is swallowed in the kiss and he’s soon panting into Isak’s mouth.  It’s so good, the sweetness of the kiss contrasting with the heat in his dick where it’s pressed against Isak’s and slipping through his hand with sounds that should be obscene but are actually hot as fuck.

Even’s so close, he’s been so keyed up, that it only takes a few more strokes of Isak’s hand before he’s tensing, his orgasm taking even him by surprise with its sudden intensity.  It’s good, so good, and Isak keeps going, faster now as he chases his own release.   It’s bordering on painful as Even’s over sensitised dick rubs against Isak’s and his hand, and he whimpers just as Isak tenses and shudders, his hand stilling on them as he comes.  His head is pressed into Even’s neck and he’s muttering, “fuck, fuck, fuck …” as his hand drops away from them both.  Isak flops gracelessly onto the bed, still swearing in dazed bliss.

Even keeps his eyes on Isak, unwilling to forego seeing any of his reactions.  His heaving chest, and kissed-red lips are both testament to what they’ve been doing and Even finds himself running his fingers over both in awe that he can have this effect on this boy.  Isak laughs as he eventually refocuses on Even, who’s now playing with his hair.  Twirling strands of it around his fingers as he watches the way Isak’s face goes from slack and dazed to mischievous and playful.  He seems much less tense than he has for several days.

“I needed that,” Even says with a sigh.  

He feels boneless and like the weight of the last few days has fallen off him.  Of course he knows that school will still be school, the other kids will still be calculating and overinvested in his life.  He knows that his Beast status will soon be known to everyone, if it isn’t already.  He knows all that, but it’s not stressing him out the way it has beent.  It’s good here, in this moment.  Much like he did with Sonja, Even feels more settled after sex, like he’s grounded and centered in a way that seldom comes at other times.  So he thinks maybe it’s not a Beauty thing, but rather a ‘let the world slip away and strip everything to its essentials’ thing, a thing that comes when you let everything go and just exist in a moment.  He sighs again.

“So did I,” Isak says as he snuggles, bending his head to rest on Even’s hair and sighing his own contentment.  Even realizes with a start that he’s the one lying on Isak’s chest today.  He’s the one gaining comfort from the arms around him.  It’s so nice that he hums his appreciation.

“I went to a new therapist today,” Even says eventually.  His voice is quiet and he’s almost asleep in Isak’s arms.  It’s too early, they haven’t eaten and he needs to pee sometime soon.  But he’s too calm and quiet here to want to disturb the peace.  It’s the same feeling he used to get with Isak when they first talked, like he’s in a confessional and he can say anything and have it be absolved, and better yet -- be kept just between the two of them.  He’s had that feeling since, of course, but it’s particularly strong now.  Maybe it’s talking to Marit, maybe it’s just something about how safe he feels here with Isak wrapped around him.

“You did?  You never said.”

There’s a hint of a question in Isak’s voice and Even hums.  “Yeah.  If she was shit I didn’t want to say anything in case it fell through.”

“Okay.”

Isak’s silence is a blessing and Even closes his eyes in gratitude.  He lets himself sink into the moment again before he speaks.  “It was good, actually.  Really good.  She made me think of some stuff in a new way.”

“That’s good, baby.”  Isak’s voice is light and happy.  It soothes Even.

He feels like he could stay here like this forever.  Isak said something once about parallel universes, and it’s times like this that Even sees the appeal.  In infinite universes, some Even must be getting to stay in a moment like this for as long as he likes.  Maybe in that universe, the call of nature isn’t so pressing, so he isn’t lying there aware that his time in this bubble has to end.  The idea reminds him suddenly of the confusion he’s been having with types and the theories around them.  Bubbles ending, and life intruding, calls to mind the stuff about Amalie Skram that he’s been trying to figure out.  He’s so relaxed and calm here that he lets it out, wondering if Isak might have some insights.

“I’ve been thinking, though, about something my dad said once.  It bugged me then and it bugs me now.”

“Mmmm?”

“He was talking about Icarus, you know the story?”  Even tilts his head up to catch Isak’s reaction and sees his thoughtful nod.  “And Amalie Skram.  You know that one we have to learn about at school?”  Another nod, a smile this time.  There’s interest in those eyes, and they’ve moved from casual post-sex bliss, to intrigued attention.  “He said they were cautionary tales, like they teach us what not to do.  But why?  Why is that all her fault?  Why is Icarus’s story a suggestion that we should stick to type?  I don’t get it.”

“That’s all bullshit,” Isak says, and Even feels a thrill go through him.  

Isak shuffles a little, sliding down in the bed to get comfortable and Even grins.  This is Isak in scholar mode.  He loves seeing him like this.  Even turns a little, pillows his head on Isak’s chest so he can look up at his face while he speaks.  He wants to be able to see the light behind his eyes as he talks; it’s one of his favorite things to look at.  Isak grins at him, and nods as he starts.

“I’ve done a fuck ton of research lately about this type stuff and that’s crap.  There’s not much about the differences within types, but there’s a lot about the effects of going out of type.  And it’s all bullshit.”

Even hums to let Isak know he’s listening.  This is what he’s always wanted to know, and he wishes he’d thought to look into it sooner.  He’d been so caught up in what he was supposed to do and be, in what his parents thought he was supposed to be, that he didn’t think to question it.  Or not the way Isak does; with books and research.  Even relied on intuition and gut feeling.  It’s always been who he was, but this is better.  Isak and his research is such a good complement to Even that he wonders again how he managed to luck onto finding him.

“Do you know when those stories first started?”  Isak looks down at Even to check if he’s following and gives him a vibrant, delighted grin when he sees how interested Even is as he shakes his head.  “Well, obviously Icarus was a Roman story, but it -- and others like it -- really got traction in the 1500s because the church was unhappy that people were turning away from their teachings a bit.”

That startles Even.  In all his thoughts and considerations he’d never entertained this idea.

“It’s a religious thing?”

“Fuck yeah it’s a religious thing.  You’d think they wouldn’t like those ‘heathen gods’ and stories wouldn’t you?  But they loved that shit.  Poor stupid heathens going against type and suffering for it?  They ate that up.”

Isak’s voice is so lively and energetic that Even can’t help but grin at him, even as his mind is whirling.  It makes so much sense, and yet it counters everything he’s ever thought he knew.  Of course, there’s been a lot of that lately so it shouldn’t really comes as a surprise.

“But my parents aren’t religious …”

“Oh yeah, that’s the best part.  It became so popular that everyone just started to believe it.  So now we have this thing where people think it’s just the way it is and that you can’t fight your type or your supposed pairings.”

There’s pain in Isak’s voice and Even winces as he hears it.  He didn’t mean to upset him, but apparently he has.  He remembers that Isak’s mother is religious and wonders if that’s had an effect on the way he sees this.  Isak’s never really pried into Even’s issues, though, so Even gives him the same courtesy.  He stick to a mild, “you’ve thought a lot about this?”

Isak gives him a tight-lipped smile and nods.  His eyes are sad as he stares at the ceiling.  “Yeah.  I thought I should be prepared.  You know, if people started getting at us about you being a Beast and me an Outcast.”

He shrugs, smiles at Even again, a hint of his old mirth showing.  “Anyway, it’s really interesting.  Back in the 1500s, people were marrying out of type and like fucking each other no matter their gender.  It was wild.  But the church couldn’t handle that so they fought back with stories.”  He shrugs again. “It worked, I guess.”

“It bugged me, the Amalie Skram thing,” Even says, trying to pull Isak away from the religion part and back onto something that’s hopefully less stressful for him.  “She pushed back against it and we’re supposed to think that was her problem?  Why wasn’t it her society’s problem for not being able to handle her?”

Isak laughs, but there’s a bitter tone to it.   “People don’t like it when other people are different.  I guess she paid for that.”

There’s something really heartbreaking in hearing Isak speak like this and it saddens Even, making his heart drop.   Isak speaks like someone who knows, who’s intimately familiar with being disliked for being different.  It must be a side effect of being an Outcast, and it gives some small insight into what it must be like.

“But we’re not going to,” Even says firmly, trying to dispel the gloom a little.  “We’re going to show them.”

“Yeah we are,” Isak says, giving a slightly stronger smile this time.  “Fuck them if they can’t take it.”

“That’s pretty much what my therapist said,” Even says.  He glances quickly at Isak who’s starting to smirk.  “And before you say it, no she didn’t say fuck.  But she did say we should just do what works for us and not worry about everyone else.”

“I like your therapist,” Isak says, leaning down to kiss Even.

“Yeah, so do I,” Even agrees, kissing him back. 

 

There’s one more person who’s quietly got Even’s back, as he discovers on Friday when he sinks into a seat in the cafeteria in relief.  His first classes of the day were filled with snickering students casting unsubtle glances at him.  He was on the brink, his Beast instincts resurfacing and leaving him sitting on a knife’s edge.  For all that Even knows he’s probably not the sort of Beast who reacts aggressively when pushed, it’s still hard to drop nineteen years of conditioning and he finds it close to impossible to keep his calm.  He tries to keep Marit’s ideas in his mind, but it’s difficult when the rages start to come and it would be so easy to slide into one rather than fight it.  So it is that entering a near-empty cafeteria gives Even a deep, settled feeling of relief.

“Halla,” he hears as someone slips into a seat beside him.  The flash of black out of the corner of his eye lets him know who it is before he looks, and he lets out a sigh that betrays how tense he’s been and how welcome her presence is.  She grins sympathetically at him.

“Hi, Sana,” he says, leaning back and allowing himself to grin at her.  It doesn’t reach his eyes, he can feel it, feel the despair he knows he’s putting out.

“This is all such bullshit,” she says, glaring fiercely over Even’s shoulder.  He doesn’t have to check to know that she’s seen someone looking at him in a way that she disapproves of.

“Yeah it is,” he says.  “But there’s nothing I can do about it.  So …” he trails off, shrugging.  He’s making his peace with this new reality.  There really isn’t any point in fighting everyone.  Word is getting out that he’s a Beast and while Even hasn’t confirmed it yet, people seem pretty certain.  He sighs.

“Mmmm,” she says, and looks him over.  “You should come over.  Mamma’s always asking about you.”

Even laughs.  Her blatant desire to get him back in contact with Elias and the others is a refreshing change today from the hostile and aggressive stares and alienation.  To his surprise, she laughs too, willing to back off.  She holds her hands up in joking surrender.

“Hey.  You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

She’s so kind, so happy just to let him take things at his own pace that Even feels a pull finally to do as she suggests.

“Actually, I’d like that,” he says, and it’s worth it to see the widening of her eyes and the choked off comment she was about to make.  He can feel his own eyes crinkling in delight as she stumbles to a halt before she even gets the words out.  She gapes for a moment or two before finally speaking again.

“You … would like that?”

“Yeah,” he says.  “I met Elias the other week and it was nice.  I’m done running, I think.”

“Oh.  Okay.  That’s a surprise.”  She looks up at him, dimples appearing on her cheeks.  “A nice one, but still a surprise.”

Laughing again, Even leans back.  “Not saying it’s not terrifying, the idea of seeing them again.  But, it feels like I need to.”

She’s serious now, leaning forward so he can see how sincere she is and he feels a huge surge of affection for her.  

“Hey.  You know I’ll be there if you want, right?”

And that, Even realizes as he swallows around a sudden tightness in his throat, is exactly what he needs.  He knows that Isak would offer too, but he doesn’t have the history.  He doesn’t know the ins and outs of the day of the  _ thing. _  The day Even really needs to be facing up to, the day Sana does know about.  So he nods.  He pats her arm in thanks and she grins, standing up to leave.

“Just let me know when, and I’ll sort it okay.”

“No time like the present,” Even says.  “How about today?”

She smiles, delight clear in her eyes and her bouncing feet.  “Today’s good.  Sure.  Meet you after school?”

“Yeah.  Yes.  Okay.  Out the front.”  Even drags a smile onto his face.  He’s far less confident than he’s pretending, but this has to be done and if he’s going to do it it may as well be fast before he loses his nerve.  “So long as you promise your mother will cook for me.”

“She cooks for everyone, Even.  For you, she’ll make a feast.”

He laughs again as she nods at him, acknowledging how hard this is but respecting his desire to pretend it isn’t.  Then she leaves, and Even stares after her, wondering if this is a good idea after all.

Even’s nervous by the time she appears beside him that afternoon, his fingers drumming on his leg and his foot tapping a stuttery rhythm on the ground.  He twitches, starts at every burst of laughter that rings out over the school yard.  It’s one thing to think in the abstract,  _ yeah I’m going to see my old friends and they’re going to be fine, _ and another to actually face it.  Even knows they have to talk about that day, and he knows the boys  _ will  _ probably be fine, but that doesn’t stop the sweat that beads on his back and slides down it despite the cold weather.  That doesn’t stop the fear that swamps his heart every time he thinks about actually facing up to what he did that day.  He even knows he’ll feel better once he’s done this, that having it not weighing on his mind will be a blessing.  But it doesn’t make this moment any easier.

“You ready?” Sana asks gently, a smile on her face as she slings her bag onto her back.

Swallowing his fear, Even nods and pushes off from the wall to follow her.  The trip home is spent in near silence.  Sana knows enough not to push Even to talk and he’s once more grateful for her solid, fiercely supportive presence in his life.  It’s so weird to Even to remember that he hasn’t had her back for very long at all.  That when he saw her that first time at school they were awkward and wary of each other.  Today the silence between them feels easy, like they get each other, and it just hits Even how far they’ve come in these last few months.

“Hey,” he says, bumping his shoulder into hers as they enter her home.  “Thanks.  For, you know … being cool and stuff.”

She looks at him, smiles and nods.  “You’ll be fine, Even.  They don’t bite.  You know that.”

His smile slips and he looks away.  “Yeah.  But it’s a lot to remember, and to face up to.”

“I know.  But you’ll feel better, I promise.”

He sighs, looks back at her and smiles.  It feels alien on his face, and hers twists in sympathy but she pats his arm and pushes open the door.

“Elias!” she yells.  “I brought your stray home again.”

There’s a loud thump from somewhere inside and Elias skids around the corner in his socks, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Even?  You came here?”

“Clearly he did, you idiot.”  Sana rolls her eyes and glares at her brother.  “Now, welcome him in and make him a drink like a decent person.”

Elias, however, is still staring at Even in shock.  “The other guys are here, too,” he says.

“I know,” Even whispers.  “I’m here to … to say sorry.  If they’ll let me.”

“Fuck.  Wow.  What changed, man?”

Even laughs, suddenly finding the amusement in seeing his friend so flabbergasted.  Elias is always so put together that seeing him like this is a revelation.  The sound seems to snap Elias out of whatever trance he’s in and he spins.

“Yousef!” he yells.  “Mikael … Mutta.  Guys!”

There’s a sudden grumbling in the distance and Even freezes.  He’s here for this, and he wants to do it but his mouth goes dry as they arrive one by one and all stare at him in shock.

“Even?” Adam finally says, wonder in his voice.  He reaches out tentatively, as if unsure Even is really there.  His hands are shaking, Even notices, and the sight sends a lump right into his throat.

“Yeah,” Even says.  “I’m …” he trails off, can’t find the way to articulate what he has to.

In the end, he doesn’t need to say more than that.  Mikael grins and drags him into a hug which threatens to break his bones, and one by one the others follow.  By the time they’ve all had a turn and all slapped him on the back, Even’s feeling slightly less stressed.  He’s wobbly on legs that have gone numb with relief.  It’s not that Even thought they’d reject him, not after the multiple meetings over the last few weeks.  But that didn’t mean the fear of seeing them all at once hadn’t been sitting tense in Even’s body for some time now.

They head to the kitchen and sit around the table.  Elias bustles in the background, sorting drinks, finding snacks and basically being a host.  He’s very clearly trying to stay out of this, maybe thinking that he’s had a turn with Even and it’s time now for the others.  Even’s not sure if he’s grateful or feels abandoned.  The only thing that keeps him in place is Sana’s presence beside him.

“So …” Mikael starts, staring at Even from across the table.  “You’re back.”

Even nods, forcing himself to look his friend in the eye.  It’s harder than he thought, having to see every flicker of pain that crosses Mikael’s face as he watches Even.  “I’m back, yeah.”

“What the fuck, Even?  Where have you been?”

The pain Mikael’s obviously been holding in bursts out in the shakiness of his voice and the irritated speed of his words.  Even flinches.  He deserves this, and he knows it, but facing it is hard.  He wishes he’d talked for longer that day at the kebab shop.  Maybe if he’d been more open then, this would be easier to do now.  He shrinks in on himself, managing to stutter, “I’ve been … uh.  It’s been.  School, you know.”

He knows it’s an inadequate response.  Knows Mikael’s really asking,  _ why didn’t you contact us you asshole, _ but he can’t bring himself to go into it.  Elias shuffles a little and startles Mikael as he sets a cup down in front of him, loudly.

“You kissed me,” Mikael says now.  “Then you fucked off.  That’s … what was that?”

“I was embarrassed,” Even says.  “I tried to explain it with that Facebook stuff but I was uh … I was …”

“Manic, yes.”  Mutta this time.  Even looks at him, wondering how he knows that.  “Sonja,” he says by way of clarification.  “She kept us up to date even if you didn’t.”

Blushing, Even nods.  “So it just made it worse and by the time I crashed … well, I figured you were all better without me.”

They’re all shaking their heads, some looking at him fondly, others seeming unconvinced.  Even glances at Yousef; he’s the one who had reacted worst at the time, he’s the one who’d told Even he was an asshole dickhead for trying to kiss Mikael.  He’s the one Even’s most worried about.  He looks concerned, like Even’s a puzzle and he just doesn’t have all the pieces.

There’s a sudden burst of anger in Even.  He doesn’t think this is a rage, but he can feel the ice cold fury burning in his veins.  This wasn’t all on him anyway; he can still see the looks on their faces when they looked at him that day.  He still feels the vines of hurt that curled through him, stabbing him with their thorns and making him want to run.   He snarls.

“It’s not like you guys were innocent, you know.  You looked at me like I was less than nothing, like I wasn’t worth your time or effort.  That … that fucking hurt.”

Mikael and Yousef look embarrassed.  The others look a mixture of baffled and (bewilderingly and infuriatingly) entertained, and Elias clears his throat, the noise loud in the sudden silence that follows Even’s words.  Sana lays her hand on his arm, briefly.  It’s enough to calm him and encourage him to take a breath, try to settle his anger into something manageable.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Yousef says.  They’re the first words he’s come out with since Even got here.  “I got a bit caught up in it, and Mikael was so upset …”

Even knows that; he gets it.  Yousef was trying to protect his friend and he took a stand.  It’s understandable.  Of course it is.  But there’s something in Even that resents being made the bad guy, resents being the one who was tossed aside.  And he knows that isn’t fair, knows the guys were just processing and that by the time Even himself had pulled away they were ready to listen.  None of that makes it any easier.

He looks away from them, to Sana, who’s been sitting by his side this whole time.  She’s glaring at the boys, the protective look on her face again and Even huffs out a startled laugh.  It breaks the tension a little and Even smiles before turning back to the boys.

“It’s … look, I know you didn’t mean anything bad.  And I’m sorry too.  I should never have just run off like that.  It’s … I’m learning how to not do that anymore.”

“But you’re okay now?”

Even nods, knowing this is the heart of it.  They believed he was completely gone from himself when he was manic that day.  They believed that kissing Mikael was all part of that.  It wasn’t; Even had wanted to for so long that it had just been natural in his heightened state to do it.  He doesn’t want them to think it was all mania, even though it would be so easy to let them think that, so he does the hard part now.  He closes his eyes to pick up the courage, then looks them all in the eye, one by one as he speaks.

“I … uh.  I have a boyfriend now.  I mean, I’m seeing a boy.  We … uh, I … I’m pansexual.  And he’s an Outcast.”

He hears a snigger across the table.  He snaps his head towards the culprit.  Mutta.  “Even, do you really think we didn’t know?  It’s all Sonja can talk about, losing you to an Outcast, and a male one at that.”

“Honestly, Even; it’s not like we didn’t know anyway.  We were just waiting for you to say something.”

There’s something pensive in Mikael’s voice as he says it that makes Even wonder how much they’ve talked about this in the time since he last properly spoke to them.

“What do you mean you knew anyway?”

“Come on!  The entire time we knew you, you’d talk about boys the same way you’d talk about girls.  But no-one wanted to push you.”

Mikael looks sad as he speaks, and Yousef nods.  He says, “it’s not … that’s not what we were upset about, you know that right?”

Numb, Even shakes his head.  “No.  I always thought …”

“Fuck, we’re sorry.”  Elias this time.  He’s just sitting down now and he pats Even’s hand as he does so.  “If we’d said something earlier you might have known.”

“Okay, but what was it then?  It felt like you hated me that day.”

Even’s directing the comment at Yousef.  He’s the one who had been the most aggressive; he’s the one who had stepped between Even and his friends.  He’s the one who Even most needs reassurance from.  But it’s not Yousef who speaks.

“Sonja,” Mikael says, and the word is a shock in the room.  Even stills.  Of all the things he’d considered this had never occurred to him.  He blushes, ashamed.  Of course they were worried about Sonja; they’d been together for so long and she was so integrated into the group that she was one of the friends.  Still is, apparently.  Even apparently trying to go behind her back would definitely make this group of guys upset.  They’re so loyal and true they would never have understood, and Even was in no shape to explain any of it.

“Fuck,” Even says.  “I, uh …” he trails off, unsure what to say or how to say it.  He really has fucked up and he sees no reason why these guys should ever forgive him.

As if Mikael senses Even’s sudden tension, he adds, “well, her and how out of the blue it was.”

And fuck, that makes so much sense.  In hindsight, Even can see it.  Thinks that maybe they had tried to say something but that his racing mind hadn’t been able to take it in.  He hates this, hates that this part of him can’t be controlled.  He can’t even really learn to control it, not like his Beast side.

“This is so fucked up,” Even says, hearing the wobble in his voice but unable to stop it.  “I’m sorry.”

This time Adam actually pats his arm, the movement a little reassuring though Even’s thoughts are still whirling.  Mikael smiles at him, then sighs.  “Look, Even.  We know it wasn’t your fault.  Sonja explained a lot of stuff later, and we get it.  But you know … it fucked us all up a lot at the time and we didn’t react as well as we could have.”  He grins.  “And like, we get it.  But we tried to talk to you later, you know … and you were just … gone?”

There’s that tone in his voice again; the one he always used to get when he was upset with Even but desperately trying to hide it.  It cuts Even to know that he did this to them, he made them this upset just because he was ashamed.  This person was his best friend for so long, and Even just walked out and turned his back on him?  He swallows, doesn’t want to admit to why he did it, but knows he has to.  He has to give them  _ something. _

“Yeah, I know.  I was embarrassed, like … it was as if I had ruined everything, and I couldn’t face you guys.  Couldn’t face the pity … so I ran away.”  Even grimaces, doesn’t really want to get into this again.  He’s said it all to Elias, and it sounded stupid then.  It’s not going to sound any better now.  Thankfully, Elias must see something of his feelings in his face and steps in.

“Yeah, and that still sounds as fucking dumb as it did last time we spoke.”  He glances around at the other boys.  “But we’ve all been fucking dumb before, right?”

Adam, who Even happens to be looking at, nods, sitting back and looking Even over as if he’s just seeing him for the first time.  It’s intense and disconcerting.  Even finds it hard to take, so he shifts his gaze to the others, one by one, and they all look … if not satisfied, then at least as if they understand.  They probably do, considering their part in this monumental screw up between them all.

There’s one thing Even does want to clear up, though.  One thing he thinks needs to be covered because being judged for it sucks.

“You know that Sonja stuff … that’s between me and her, right?  That was our problem, not yours.”

“Yeah,” Yousef sighs.  “We know, but by the time we’d figured that out you were long gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Even whispers again as he looks at the table.  “I really shouldn’t have run away, I was just so ...”

“Embarrassed, yeah,” Mutta says.  “I mean that’s a really shitty reason for making us worried for so long.  But--”

Mikael cuts in, shrugging.  “It doesn’t matter.  You’re here now, so we should just let it go, yeah?”

Overwhelmed, unsure if they really have said enough yet, Even also shrugs.  He figures maybe it’s enough for now.  They have time, after all; there’s no reason to think they won’t talk again.  The conversation moves on, and he finds himself talking about the last few months, about his new school and how that feels.  And more than anything, he finds himself talking about Isak, and how great things are for him right now.  In return, they tell the tales of their job searches and the frustrations they’re encountering there, and their new YouTube channel which they show him.  It has him in stitches, and he feels a pang as he thinks about what he’s missed out on and that he could have been part of all this if he hadn’t been so avoidant.  

Even so, the rest of the afternoon is filled with laughter and an ease that Even has missed from most aspects of his life ‘til now.  Even is feeling much more settled by the time Mutta pushes back from the table and says he has to go home.  The others murmur agreement and leave after back slaps and hugs with Even.  He feels humbled that they’re welcoming him back so easily.  In an effort to compose himself a little before he goes home, Even stays at the table with Sana while Elias walks the others to the door.

“How do you feel?” she asks him as the voices disappear in the distance.

“I’m … okay, I think.  It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Nothing ever is,” Sana says, smiling in that infuriatingly smug way she has.

“Do you ever stop doing the mysterious Seer thing?” Even asks, unable to resist the urge to tease her a little.

“Never,” she shoots back with a laugh.  But I’m glad you’re--”

She cuts off as there’s a commotion at the door, a feminine giggle as someone enters the room and turns to laugh at the person entering behind her.  Even’s heart sinks.  He knows that giggle, heard it almost every day for years.  He watches in slow motion as she turns to face the kitchen and her eyes catch his.  He’s had a moment to compose his face, but the shock is stark on hers as she falters to a halt in the doorway.

For a long beat, nothing happens.  Even’s frozen in place, and so is Sonja.  Her mouth is open in the middle of a sentence, her eyes alight with the remnants of the laugh she was sharing with Elias as he stops too, uncertain.  The smile fades the longer she stays frozen there.  Eventually, she steels herself, squaring her shoulders as the smile drops off her face.

“Oh.  Halla, Even,” she says, taking a few steps into the room in a mechanical fashion.  Her eyes are still locked onto his.  He smiles at her, trying to keep his expression neutral as he does so but all he can think of is the party where he’d seen her last.

“Hi Sonja,” he says.  

He sets his cup down and pats the seat next to him.  Sana pokes him in the back as she gets up and moves towards the door.  She’s ostentatious in her movements and glares at Elias who is still standing in the doorway, glancing between Even and Sonja as if fascinated.

“Elias,” Sana hisses.  “Come help me … in the lounge.”  She tilts her head threateningly and he finally catches on, his mouth dropping into an ‘o’ of understanding and his head bobbing in a failed nod.

“Right, sure.  The lounge.  Where we have to … rearrange the chairs.”

Sana rolls her eyes and swiftly leaves the room.  Elias follows more slowly, still casting glances back at Even and Sonja, his mouth opened as if he wants to say something.  Sonja finally moves, sliding into the seat Even had indicated earlier.  She shakes herself, takes a breath.  Even watches the air punch out of her, and the small nod she gives herself as she clearly works her way through an internal pep talk.

“I’m sorry.”

She’s not looking at him when she speaks and he smiles a little.  It’s painful how distant they’ve become in just this short time.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says.  “I’m the one who made it tough for you, there at the end.  I was a fucking asshole and you didn’t deserve it.”

She shakes her head, fondness in every line of her face.  “I knew what you were doing all those times I came over,” she says, a small smile playing around her lips as she stares at the table.  “Trying to piss me off so I’d be distant.”

Even can feel the heat rising in his cheeks.  He hadn’t even admitted that to himself, but she’s right.  All that pettiness and anger, all that aggression, all that irritation which he allowed into his voice more often than not when they were together -- that was all part of his desperation to make her break up with him, to make her so frustrated with his improperly beastly behavior that she’d leave.

“I’m sorry,” he says now.  “It was really shitty.”

“I’m not going to argue.  That really was assholey,” she says, a sigh escaping as her hands twist uneasily in her lap.  There’s a lot in the sigh: sadness, regret, nostalgia.  There’s eeven some fondness lingering still in the soft tilt of her lips.  She looks at him, finally, and there’s a lot of guilt in her eyes.  “But what happened between us, that’s not why I’m sorry.”

Even can feel his brows rising, confusion rippling through him.  He can’t think what she’d have to be guilty about.  She sees him, and recognizing the discomfort, laughs.

“I didn’t really mean it when I asked if you’d got over your thing.”  She frowns a little, remembering.  “Your ‘Outcast’ thing.  Remember?”

Even nods.  He pats her arm.  It’s a remnant, a shadow still lingering from the time when he’d want to soothe her when she was upset.  “I know,” he says.  “I did know that.”

She shakes her head, lips pursed and intensity in her gaze.  “You don’t understand.  It hurt to see you with him.  You looked so great together and I got really jealous.”

It’s hard to know what to say to that.  Even knows it’s a huge admission from her, knows how much it must be costing her to say it.  Indeed, it sits behind the confident facade she’s wearing right now, tension etching lines around her eyes and adding a twist to her lips.  Despite knowing all that, there’s an anger stirring in Even.  That she felt she could even try to convince him that day sits wrongly with him.  All that pain and anxiety Isak felt that night, all because Sonja couldn’t deal with seeing them together and happy.  So he doesn’t say anything, just shrugs when she turns her gaze to his again.

“I don’t think you know how much it meant to me, being with you,” she says.  “When I was little I never thought I’d ever find a decent Beast.  You’re not exactly a dime a dozen.”

Even snorts, anger still simmering, but an undercurrent of nostalgia there now.  He knows full well how rare it is to find another Beast.  Other than Isak’s mother, who he still hasn’t met, his mother is the only other Beast Even knows.

“I just … I really wanted to keep you,” she says.  “It was all so perfect and I felt useful and needed.”

There’s something in her eyes that begs for some sort of validation, and Even feels the pull.  She was his Beauty for so long, after all, and he’s never found it easy to resist her needs.  He touches her again, a soft drift down her arm.

“I did need you,” he says softly.  Then, because he feels like she deserves more than he’s been able to give her, he tells her.  Tells her the things he’s just discovering.  “It’s just … Pappa found a book that says there might be more than one type of Beast, and there’s this one type that sort of … it fits me?  It’s a more … uh, energetic Beast, I guess.  Playful, they called it.”

Her eyes are wide as they stare at him.  She’s confused, puzzlement showing in every line of her face.  “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he says gently, “that I was probably never the right Beast for you.  I needed to be playing, silly sometimes, and stuff like that, and you needed … well.”  It’s hard.  Even has Isak now, he’s in love and it’s better than it ever was with Sonja.  And yet.  They shared so much for so long, so this is hard to admit.  He can hear the tears wobbling in his voice as he continues.  “It was nice while it lasted, but in the end we need different things.”

She mulls it over, takes her time thinking about it.  It’s hard to let it sit, to let her have this time, but Even knows her.  He knows she needs time to process.  She stares intently at the table while she thinks, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the grain with her fingers.  

“And you get what you need from him.”

She nods to herself, clearly knowing the answer without waiting for it.

“I do, yeah.”

“He’s not a Beauty.”

“No, he isn’t.”

They sit in silence for a long while, her breathing is a little faster than usual, and Even can feel the waves of sadness coming off her.  Unlike the day of the party, when she was drunk and bitter, today she’s resigned.  He puts an arm around her, feels her settle into him in the old rhythm.  It’s safe, secure.  But there’s nothing else there, no spark at all.

“I hope you find it too,” he says.  “What I have.  Archetype or not, it’s so worth it.”

She nods, taking a deep sighing breath in and smiling at him.  There are tears in her eyes but she’s strong when she says, “I will.  I’ll miss you, babe.  But I’ll find something better.”

Faking shock, Even gasps.  “Better than me?  You’re dreaming; I’m such a catch.”

There’s a wobbling smile, a sighed admission of the humor, but she’s serious when she answers him.

“You are,” she says.  “But not the best catch for me, I think.  I was just too blind to see it before.” 

Embarrassed because he’s done it again, tried to make something uncomfortable disappear through jokes, Even catches her hand.  He’s serious too when he speaks this time.

“I’m sorry.  I wish it hadn’t been like this.”

“Me too,” she says.  “But it’s okay.  You’re a good guy, and you deserve to be happy.”

More than anything else, this is what hits Even.  She’s been so much in control of him for so long that he still craves her validation.  So to hear her, of everyone, say he deserves to be happy means a lot.  His throat is clogged and he can’t get any words out, but she seems to get it anyway.  There’s a slight brush of lips on his forehead, a whiff of her perfume which makes Even dizzy with nostalgia for one brief moment and then she’s gone, leaving him alone at the table.   
  


Even’s still sitting there when Sana re-enters the room.  The look on her face is sympathetic, and she smiles at him.  He’s used to the brusque, abrasive version of Sana so this nicer, softer one makes his eyes burn again with unshed tears.  She slides into the seat next to him, and offers her presence.

“Hey,” she says eventually.  

He’s managed to get himself under control, and is able to smile at her naturally.  

“Hi,” he says.  He feels drained, needs to get out of here.  She smiles that knowing smile he’d noticed his first day of school and shrugs.

“You’re useless like this.”  She smiles at him again, dimples on prominent display.  “Go home to your boy, get some rest.”

He would complain, Even thinks, if the impulse to do exactly that wasn’t itching in his fingers and through his veins.  If he didn’t want to get back and sink into Isak’s arms.  There have been far too many emotional conversations today for Even to sit through any small talk or meaningless chat of any sort.  In fact, he wants to stop talking, to be quiet somewhere -- just him and Isak.

So he makes the minimal excuses he can before slipping away, skips seeing Elias altogether, despite the guilty feeling that he owes him something more than this after today.  Sana nods at him, says she’ll let Elias know he’s left.  She gets it, sees the need in Even to be away and processing this by himself, and Even’s grateful for her.  He sighs out his relief and half jogs, half walks to the tram, desperate now to get home.  

The door squeaks as Even pushes it open, and the sound is loud in the stillness of the hallway.  Even can hear muffled voices coming from the living room and his heart sinks.  There are people here who aren’t Isak and his flatmates, so Even’s hopes of peace and quiet are quickly ebbing away.  It’s with less enthusiastic steps that he makes his way to the lounge, feet dragging a little now, and his heart heavy with disappointment.  He waits in the doorway, taking in the scene before him.  People sit, some on couches and some leaning up against others’ legs or whatever piece of wall they can find.  Isak is lounging on one couch, his legs stretched out and a comfortable, pleased look on his face as he surveys the people around him.  They must all be his friends then.  Even hopes somehow that he’ll avoid detection, or that only Isak will notice him.  But it’s actually Eskild, sitting next to Isak, and waving his arms around animatedly as he speaks, who looks up and whose face breaks into a beaming grin.

“Even!  Halla!” he bellows, leaping to his feet and grabbing Even’s arm to drag him inside.  Isak follows more slowly, a slow-blooming smile on his face as he pulls Even into a hug.  He’s warmth and comfort, shampoo-and-musk scented, and the world falls away as Even lets himself be lost in those arms.  He can feel the tension leaching out of his body and Isak’s soft laugh as he feels the full weight of Even fall against him and he stumbles back.

“Let’s sit you down,” he whispers, his forehead against Even’s and his voice so low no-one else will hear it.  

Realizing just how heavy his bones feel, Even lets himself be led to the couch Isak had been sitting on.  Isak sits, his legs stretched out along the couch and he pulls Even down so he can curl up alongside him.  The couch is a little too short for comfort, but Even doesn’t care, just burrows himself as deep into Isak’s embrace as he can get and tucks his face into his neck.  Dimly, he knows that he’s probably making a shitty impression on whoever these people in the room with them are but he doesn’t care.  He needs Isak right now and fuck anyone who judges him for that.

He hears the rumble of Isak’s voice, taut with sarcasm as he stings some unsuspecting person (probably Magnus, if Even has the timbre of the voices right), and Even smiles as he presses further into the embrace.  It’s comforting here, even with the others around, and Even hums softly as Isak’s fingers twirl his hair and he absentmindedly strokes his cheek every now and then.  It’s routine, all this.  Isak is doing it without thinking as he carries on his conversation with those around him, and it means a lot.  There are people here whose voices Even doesn’t recognize, whose presence isn’t usual in the rhythm of their lives.  And yet, Isak is so casually touching and holding Even as if it’s nothing spectacular.  Humming happily, Even whispers “I love you” into the warmth of Isak’s neck.  He hears a soft chuckle, a slight tightening of Isak’s hands in his hair, and an, “I love you too, baby” as he closes his eyes and finds himself sliding towards sleep.    
  


Even blinks, his eyes stuck together with sleep and a disoriented feeling as he takes in his surroundings.

“You’re back with us, huh?” 

Isak is teasing, his voice cheerful as he gazes down at Even.  He realizes he’s lying on Isak’s lap now, his head cushioned on one thigh and his legs hanging uselessly over the arm of the couch which is digging into them in a way that’s becoming uncomfortable.  Even groans, stretches, feels his joints popping as he shifts in the uncomfortable position.  Reluctantly, Even sits up, but he’s still clogged with sleep so he lets his head fall onto Isak’s shoulder and his eyes close for a few moments.  Slowly, he comes back to wakefulness and the noise in the room crashes into his consciousness.

His eyes flickering open again, Even takes in the people around him.  Sure enough, Magnus is there, leaning against the other couch next to the pretty blonde girl Even remembers from school.  She’s laughing, her eyes alight as she stares at Magnus in besotted admiration.  Another girl he vaguely recognizes is there, too, sitting wrapped up in the arms of a platinum blonde with bright red lips and a confident smirk.  Then draped over the other furniture and the floor are Jonas and Mahdi.  It’s cute, domestic, and Even gets the feeling that these people know each other, or most of them do.

Eskild bustles into the room with several steaming mugs in his hands.  He stops when he sees Even awake.

“Oh,” he says.  “I don’t have one for you.  Do you want me to make you one?”

Laughing, Even stretches again, and shakes his head.  “No, I’m fine thanks.”

He settles back down against Isak and watches the curious gazes of the two girls drift towards them.  Eskild notices as well.

“Noora, have you met Even?  Even and Isak are … well.  You see how they are.”

He nods approvingly while pointing at Even and Isak, and Even feels a strange sense of delight that Eskild approves.  It’s not even like this is unusual for Eskild, but the fact that he’s introducing them as a pair to new people feels more permanent in a way.

“Fuck off,” Isak rumbles beside Even and scowls at Eskild, clearly not feeling the same delight Even is, but Even can tell his heart isn’t in it.  The irritation is mostly a game now, for show.  Something that Eskild would fret over if it were missing.

Confirming this, Eskild ignores him, and waves at Even.  “Even … that’s Noora.”  The platinum blonde waves at him and gives a slight smile before wrapping her arm around her girlfriend and kissing her shoulder.  Eskild smiles at them.  “She used to live here but then she left us to go to London.  It was a bad time for us, but we had the baby gay instead and you see how great he has become.”

Beside Even, Isak is stirring, reacting as usual to the nickname, but Eskild has already moved on, either oblivious to or uncaring of the reaction he’s caused.

“Those are Eva and Vilde.  They are very pretty, nice girls and Noora’s friends so we like them.”

Even laughs.  The whole speech is so typical of Eskild.  His Godmother instincts are driving him to make everyone feel at home, and Even can still feel the wave of stress that his rejection of a hot drink has caused.  He likes Eskild a lot, and he feels like knowing his type has told him a huge amount about the man and his motivations.  So now he’s curious, wonders what types the others are.  They’re all so comfortable here, but the types he knows shouldn’t work properly together.

Magnus is much less vibrant today, his foolishness hidden behind the facade he’s wearing to try to attract Vilde.  Jonas is taking a step back, not trying to sort out particular people’s problems as he usually does, just watching it all with a small smile on his face.  Of the types Even knows, only Mahdi is acting true to type.  His charm is spreading around the group, ensuring they’re all kept caught up in the conversation and no-one feels left out.  And of course, Eskild is following his lead, drawing the strays into a side conversation if needed.  Thus it is that Even is addressed when Eskild notices he’s been silent for a while.

“You’re okay, Even?”

“Hmmm?” Even asks, still wrapped up in his thoughts about the people around him and enjoying the way Isak’s hands are still sliding along his arms as he chats with Jonas.

“I was just asking if you’re okay.  You seemed a little … mmmm, not yourself when you came in.”

“I’m fine.”  Even smiles at Eskild, and pats Isak’s hands where they have stilled as he takes note of what Even and Eskild are talking about.

“I am wondering about all these people and their types, though.”  Even hadn’t meant to say it, but he’s so consumed with curiosity that he blurts it out without thinking.

Eskild sits back a little and frowns.  “You know it’s not nice to ask people their types, Even.”

Flushing, Even nods.  “I know.  I’m just wondering.  It seems like such a mixed bunch, I can’t quite work out how we all got here.”

Isak laughs.  “We’re all outcasts in some way,” he says gleefully and Even snorts.

Eskild, however, stares at him with wide eyes and his mouth dropped open in a comical expression of surprise.  “Baby gay, that’s genius,” he says.

“Well, I try,” Isak says and Even turns to press a kiss into his neck, reveling in the way Isak shivers at the touch.  “Just goes to show we really are the best type.”

That startles a chuckle out of Eskild, but he looks thoughtful.  “So … we are an Outcast, a Beast, a Fairy Godmother, yes?  Plus your Wise Man and Charming and Fool over there.  Then we have two Princesses,” he nods at Noora and Eva who are now wrapped in each other and ignoring everyone else around them, “and a Sidekick.”  That must be Vilde; she’s the only one left.  What stands out for Even is that none of them is in a ‘proper’ archetype pairing.  All his worry and fear had been ridiculous in light of this.  Maybe this is why Isak had been less concerned with going out of archetype when they met; he was so used to these people and their unconventional ways.

“Wow,” Even breathes as he takes it all in.  “This should never have happened.”

“And yet it did,” Eskild says.  “And here we are so happy and cozy together.”

It strikes Even, as Eskild drifts away and allows Isak to focus back onto Even rather than the people around them, that this generation may be less stuck on the archetypes than his parents’ one.  That even if it comes to light in a more general, open way that he’s a Beast and in love with an Outcast, that it may actually be okay.  No-one here cares; they all accept Isak and Even as a couple as a normal part of their everyday experience.  It feels weird but good and Even can’t help but soar.  People at school have been reacting oddly, but Even hasn’t really given them a chance.  It’s all rumor and speculation, so maybe when it becomes accepted truth it won’t be so bad.  Maybe he can have this there too.  It’s heady to think about.

Today has been exhausting, but it’s helped to calm Even.  He’s had some time with his friends and mended a couple of bridges, he’s managed to find some peace with Sonja and now he’s here in this group of people who love and care for each other even though they shouldn’t.  He’s having an epiphany in the midst of this mixed up bunch of people and it feels right.  It feels almost magical, like this is Even’s reward for facing some of the harder parts of the day, and he’s grateful for all of them, even the ones he doesn’t know.  But most of all, he’s grateful for Isak.  Beautiful Isak who lights up Even’s world and knows just when to lean down to whisper, “I love you,” into Even’s ear to make the moment even more perfect.

“I love you, too,” Even whispers as he lets himself be drawn into Isak’s embrace.  At one time this had seemed impossible, but now it’s the easiest thing in the world.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's just one more to go. That makes me feel all sorts of ways (relief at being almost done, finally, warring with sadness because I have loved this thing), but it's good. It's nice to look at my plan and see just the final section left to go.
> 
> Having said that, I am off tomorrow to a place with no wifi and patchy reception at best so I will likely not be writing much over the next week. Still, I'll do my best to get the last chapter out as soon as I can. I hope everyone's having a relaxing time as the year changes and that next year will be lovely to you all.


	11. Chapter 11

The days are cold and often gloomy now; every morning starts bleak and dark with ice in the air, and it doesn’t lighten until they’ve been in class for at least an hour.  That means it’s often a chore to drag themselves out of bed and force their feet in the direction of school.  Even trudges, shoulders hunched in his jacket against the biting winds, and Isak grumbles beside him.  It’s not pleasant but it’s now part of their routine and as such, Even holds it dear, even the groans and mumbles if a particularly harsh gust stirs up.  The two of them are in such sync now that if one starts to slip on an icy patch the other will catch his elbow to steady him without breaking stride or if one is starting to shiver, the other will always take his hand to warm his fingers.  It’s nice, a small, welcome moment in the day before they have to separate to the drudgery of classes and school bells.

By afternoon, everything seems brighter even as the light fades again.  The lights that now twinkle through the darkened late afternoons are suggestive of Christmas, despite it still being weeks away.  They’re threaded and hanging everywhere, shimmering in trees and cascading from rooftops, lending a beauty to the snow that is turning to slush underfoot, and even the homes around the area look warm and inviting as their lights beam onto the streets around him.  Even has always been fond of early evenings this time of year.  The darkness shrouds so much of the ugliness of the world, and the lights glow, softening the harsh lines of the buildings around him.  It feels like a time of new beginnings, of being able to remove the ugly parts of him and allow the soft, attractive parts to shine through.  He laughs to himself, shivering in the cold of the afternoon as he waits for Isak, drawing his jacket as close around him as he can while the wind swirls.  He can be such a pretentious asshole, he knows.  Mikael would have a fucking field day if he could read Even’s mind right now.

His phone pings, the sound loud in the gathering darkness.  Expecting a message from Isak, Even is smiling as he pulls it out, ready to tease Isak for running late to their meeting spot.  The name he sees instead freezes the grin on his face and makes his heart skip an unpleasant beat.  Yousef.  While Even has felt much better since they spoke, he’s still nervous and unsure of his old friends, and Yousef in particular.  He’d been the one who’d reacted the most when they found Even with Mikael that day.  He’d been the strongest in his religion of everyone Even knows -- well, apart from Sana, but he’d never really spent  _ that _ much time with her.  It was always Yousef who’d been the moral heart of the group.  Even snorts as he thinks of it; that makes far too much sense now that he knows Yousef’s a Fool.  They so often do hold those around them to account.  But all that has meant that Yousef’s strong reaction, and his subsequent pity, have been extremely hard for Even to bear.  He can still conjure every tiny ounce of the stress and tension he felt that first day he saw Yousef at Elias’ house, and it still hurts him whenever he lets himself think of it.  So Even’s really not sure how he feels now that Yousef has independently contacted him.  

With a start, Even realizes he’s been staring at his phone for far too long, his fingers almost lifeless and chilled as he stares at the small screen with blank eyes.  He shakes himself out of it and is about to open the message when he feels the warm brush of lips against his cheek.  It doesn’t take the musk-and-shampoo scent, that is so uniquely Isak that Even can conjure it whenever he even thinks of him, for Even to know who it is.  The way his body relaxes into the familiarity of the embrace tells him all he needs to know.  He smiles, allowing himself to settle against Isak.

“Halla, Baby,” he says.  “You’re late.”

“Yeah.  Fuck my life, honestly.  The teacher wanted to keep me back because my grades have slipped.”

“You didn’t say.”

Even’s worried; school means so much to Isak that a slip in grades is something to be very wary of and he’s unsure what this might mean.  Isak rolls his eyes, and lets out a clearly irritated sigh.

“I’m still getting 5s,” he says, his voice filled with anger.  “It’s not like I’m failing anything, and I’m still getting 6s in Biology.”

“You’re so smart,” Even says, grinning.  “You’ll catch up even if there is a problem.”

“Exactly!” Isak says, smiling at Even.   _ “You _ get it, and I tried to tell her that but she was all, ‘oh but you have to catch up right this minute, Isak.’” His voice is mocking, imitating a high pitched irritating whine and Even laughs.  “She wanted me to say how and when right then and there.  It was a fucking nightmare.”

He stops talking, a slight frown creasing his forehead and his eyes taking on a faraway look.  It twists something anxious in Even’s heart.  Isak sighs softly, the frown deepening as he turns back to flick a quick smile at Even, one which lights his lips and his eyes but which doesn’t have any effect on the lines on his forehead.

“You’d tell me if there was something more, right?” Even asks, sliding his arm around Isak and squeezing.  There’s something comforting to him in doing it, in feeling the way Isak’s body relaxes into his own, which is ridiculous since it’s Isak who should be the one needing comfort here.

“Yeah, baby, of course.  It’s fine.”

Isak’s voice is breezy, but Even can hear the slight tremble in it, the hint of a question.  He resolves to pay more attention, to make sure Isak isn’t overdoing anything.  One thing Even is starting to learn is how much Isak tries to hide of his own issues, even with Even.  As much as Isak is there for Even, he wants to be there for Isak too, but he’s worried that he hasn’t been as present as he should have been, so preoccupied with his own worries that he’s not really noticed Isak’s.

As if he recognizes the thoughts starting to circle in Even’s head, Isak grins, looking much more like his usual self.  He kisses Even, deep and slow.  It’s one of those kisses that speaks of comfort and familiarity, of time spent together and time to come.  Isak’s fingers tighten in Even’s shirt, and one brushes against the skin at his waist, slipping in under his jacket.  Even feels that touch tingle through his entire body and he smiles, breaking the kiss.  He becomes aware of a whoop to their left, and his eyes snap sideways to take in the group of girls who are grinning as they stare blatantly at them.  He glances back at Isak, catches him rolling his eyes as he refocuses on Even. Even traces the irritated embarrassment sitting in the taut lines of Isak’s body, and the defiant set of his shoulders.  But Even’s fairly sure the girls aren’t able to pick up on it, so he grins wickedly at Isak, who just rolls his eyes again and groans.  He wraps his arms around Even’s waist and drops his forehead onto his shoulder.

The noises from the girls become softer, almost like cooing.  Even sighs.  It’s nice that the attention they’re getting now is more positive, but it’s infuriating that people are still so interested that every little thing he and Isak do together is analyzed and they’re watched as if they hold some secret to the universe.  But as Isak’s arms tighten and he sighs into Even’s neck, sending a shiver right down his spine, Even thinks  _ fuck it.  Fuck them.  _  He allows himself to slide his own arms up Isak’s back and hold him tighter, sinking into his embrace.  They may as well enjoy the moments they get together considering it doesn’t matter how circumspect they are; they still get the attention anyway.  As always, being with Isak centers Even in a way that’s hard to quantify.  Even wastes a few moments trying (wanting to trace the meanings that exist behind what he feels, but unable to come up with much beyond  _ feels like home _ ) before he huffs a laugh and buries his nose in Isak’s hair.  He loses himself in the sensation of being with Isak, of the comfort he gets from just having him here, real and solid and present. 

A timid cough next to his shoulder startles Even and he jumps, losing the peace he’d been feeling.  So he’s scowling when he looks down at the girl who’s interrupted them.  Isak’s face is a stony mask as he takes in the girl too, and Even registers the way her face falls and the smile slides away as she takes in the way they’re looking at her.

“I … uh.  I’m sorry?” she says in a rush, ruby red staining her cheeks and her voice stuttery with nerves.  “Just.  You’re Even, right?”

When he nods, she lights up in a grin, her shoulders relax a little and she settles back on her heels.  “Oh, I thought so and they said you were.  But sometimes people like to trick me, so …”

Even can feel the crease forming on his forehead, and he shares a look with Isak as confusion wars with his irritation.  Isak’s body is starting to tense in Even’s arms, so he rubs a soothing arm on his back as he raises one eyebrow at the girl.  She’s staring at them with wide, hopeful eyes which makes Even suspect she wants him to say something but he’s floundering, unsure what it is she expects from him.

“Oh, hmmm … that’s …” he begins, flailing around for something to say to that which makes sense.

But that seems to be enough for her because she leans forward again, and whispers, “they say you’re a Beast, and I just wanted to know if it’s true.”

A wave of panic floods Even, and he shares another glance with Isak.  He looks as shell-shocked as Even feels, like his knees are going to buckle and he’s going to sink to the ground.  It’s only with superhuman effort and Isak’s hand on his back rubbing a soothing rhythm that Even is able to keep his composure and stay upright.  He can’t control the way his face drains of color, however, and the girl blushes.

“Oh,” she says, her hands flying to her mouth.  “I thought it was true.  Or I hoped it was.  I guess people were tricking me again.  I’m sorry …”

She turns to leave and Even instinctively reaches out a hand.  As he touches her arm, she pauses and turns back towards him.  She’s agitated, her eyes flitting everywhere and a deep blush staining her cheeks but there’s so much desperate hope in her expression when she faces them again that Even finds himself smiling, albeit stiffly.

“Why did you hope it was true?”

Her blush intensifies and she shuffles her feet, dragging her eyes away from his.  “Oh … well.  I knew if it was true that means you’re not in archetype and then I guess there’d be hope for .. for me too.  And then maybe I could--”

“What’s your name?” Isak asks.  It’s not unkind, but Even can hear the strain in his voice and the worry about why she’s asking these questions.  He’s clearly trying to cut her off, to gain some time so they can think through what to say and Even is grateful.  It allows him a moment to compose himself, and to process what he thinks she’s saying.

“Uh … Maiken,” she says, stumbling to a halt in her ramble.  “But what …?”

“Maiken … are you a Beast?” Even asks, keeping his voice as gentle as he can.

Her eyes flit back to his and widen in what he recognizes as the panic of being found out.  Her face is drained of color and she’s shifting on her feet as if she’s about to flee, so Even grasps her arm.  There’s a smile on her face, but it looks brittle and unnatural even to someone who doesn’t know her well.  Even smiles, letting her see his understanding, trying to help her.

“It’s okay.  Truly.  I’m a Beast too.”

There.  He’s said it.  It’s out in the open where anyone can find it now, but Even doesn’t feel the fear he’d expected.  It’s not even as bad as it was when he admitted to Jonas what he already knew anyway.  There are no cold tremors in his body, no icy clutch at his heart.  Instead, he feels exhilarated.  He can feel Isak’s hand still on his back, feel the solid support Isak’s giving him now in the set of his shoulders as they brush Even’s own, and in the softness of his touch.  Maiken smiles, her face crumbling from the bright, insincere mask she’s been wearing as tears well in her eyes.  

“I’m not the only one,” she whispers.  She blinks her eyes a few times, but a stray tear leaks out anyway.

“No you’re not,” Even says softly, shaking his head as he reaches out to wipe the tear away.

“And you’re out of archetype,” she adds, breathless.  She’s looking at them with eyes filled with wonder and awe.  Even feels a little strange at that.  They’re not trying to be anything special; they’re just living their lives as best they can.  He doesn’t feel like they deserve to be looked at as if they’re something amazing.

“Yeah,” Isak says, grinning at Even.  “We are.”

“And you’re okay with the … the … you know …”

Something pained stirs in her eyes as she tries to bring herself to talk about the rages, and Even feels a pang in his own chest.  He knows that look from the inside, the one which tells of years of self loathing, of hating the way your body betrays you when you feel angry.  It’s even more heartbreaking seeing it from the outside.

“Yeah,” he says gently.  “It’s not easy but you can do it.”

Maiken’s eyes fill with tears again.  “I felt so alone,” she says.  “I don’t tell people because I’m so scared.”

“I know,” Even says.  “It’s hard.  But you don’t have to be scared anymore.  You can talk to me if you need to.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, looking overwhelmed.

She scuttles away then, back towards the group of girls who’d been so invested in Isak and Even earlier.  Even feels a stab of anxiety as she’s swallowed up by the crowd.  He can’t be sure she won’t confirm all the rumor to the other girls, but he’s ready to accept it if it comes.  If she tells ...well, they were bound to find out sooner or later anyway.  And it was worth it to give her some hope and comfort.

He turns back to Isak with a rueful smile.  “I guess that’s it out of the bag then …” 

The look he surprises on Isak’s face steals his breath and punches the air out of his lungs. It’s filled with so much love and admiration, and no matter how often Even sees that exact look he can never quite believe it’s for him.  He can’t believe that Isak really feels that way about  _ him. _

“I’m so proud of you,” Isak says, wrapping his arms firmly around Even again and pressing a kiss into the hair behind his ear.  “I love you so much.”

  
  


It’s hours before Even remembers the text he’d received from Yousef and opens it with shaking fingers.  It’s innocuous, and Even lets his breath out on a shaky sigh because of course it is.  He’s built this up so much but he didn’t need to.   _ Yo Even can we film at your place?  We need a real apartment situation and you have one. _  Even tips the phone to show Isak who rolls his eyes and nods, shrugging his shoulders as if to say  _ why the fuck are you asking me? _

Even says, responding to the unspoken question, “well it’s nice to ask if you’re about to let your over-excitable friends into someone’s house,” and Isak just quirks his eyebrow at Even.

“And  _ you’re _ not over-excitable?”

Snorting, Even quickly taps out an affirmative to Yousef.  He’s watched their videos and has a good idea of the types of things they like to do.  It should be fun, even if he’s forced to appear in this one.  He can’t really think of any other reason they’d want to film here; their thin excuse is not really convincing.

They make a date for Wednesday after school and Even relaxes.  As the time passes before then, he finds himself actually looking forward to it.  It’s been a very long time since he did something that involved his own friends rather than Sonja’s or Isak’s, and as much as Even loves Jonas and the other boys he has to admit that he misses being with people who’ve known him so long they have a shared history of jokes and banter.  He misses the pranks and the games they’d play, and when he thinks of the boys starting their YouTube channel he feels a visceral sense of regret that he wasn’t there to be part of it.

After school on Wednesday, then, his feet are twitching with the desire to get out of there.  They tap restlessly on the ground as he waits for Isak to be done.  For some reason, Isak is always a few minutes late out these days and it’s starting to concern Even.  If his grades are worse than he’s been admitting, maybe Even should try to help him somehow.  His fingers are now tapping an irritated pattern on his thigh, speaking of his desperation to be out of here for the day, when he hears a quiet cough beside him.

“Hi, Even.  I … uh …”

Even smiles, genuinely thrilled to see her.  “Maiken!  How are you?”

“I’m … um, I’m good.  I was just wondering if I could maybe … um …” she takes a deep breath and the rest of her words tumble out so fast that Even almost doesn’t catch what she’s saying. “I was wondering if I could have your phone number?”

She looks so distraught that Even pulls her into a quick hug.  “Of course you can.  Here, give me your phone.”

She does and he taps his number into it, then hands it back to her.  “Is there something I can help with?”

She shakes her head, looking a little more calm but she’s still clearly upset about something.  Even knows how it is, though.  How hard it is to tell people about your issues just in case they don’t take them well.  How being a Beast can take over your life and make you overthink everything you say and do in case others will judge you for your impulses.  It’s hard to shake, even when you know the person you’re speaking to isn’t likely to do that judging.

“Okay.”  He nods.  “But you use that if you want to, whenever.  I can’t promise to answer right away, but ... I’ll always  _ try _ to be there for you.”

“Thank you,” she whispers again before hurrying off just as Isak reaches Even.

They walk home in silence, but now they aren’t as wary of people seeing them so their hands are loosely clasped together, and Even allows himself the occasional kiss on Isak’s cheek when the mood strikes.  Isak always rolls his eyes, but Even notices he also moves closer.  It feels so natural to just do this, kiss Isak when he feels like it or hold hands or give him a hug, that Even can’t believe they haven’t been doing this forever.  He loves how fast it seems like things change.

It’s cold in the apartment when they arrive, but the heating is soon on and Isak starts a kettle for coffee while Even brings out blankets to sit under while they wait for the air to warm around them.  They huddle together under the blanket in the living room, sipping the drinks, and Even thinks this is about the happiest he’s ever been.  Sure, his parents’ house is always warm because there’s always someone home and the heating is on all day, but he didn’t feel the same peace there that he does here.  Sighing, Even thinks he could sit here forever, just him and Isak.  Isak’s looking at him quizzically and Even’s just about to let all his feelings blurt out when the buzzer rings and he remembers that Yousef and the guys are coming over.  

Even lets them in, and suddenly it’s like the space that had seemed very large when it was just the two of them feels small and overrun.  There’s only Yousef and Mikael, but they’re loud and energetic and even though there are only two extra people here, it’s like they have expanded to take up all the room available.  Mikael is poking into everything like a puppy while Yousef is grinning and bounding around, trying to examine the apartment’s lighting.

“Even,” he calls.  “Even, I need your help, bro.”

Isak’s looking at them with wild eyes and a haunted expression on his face.  Even chuckles, runs his hands down his arms and whispers, “it’s okay; they usually settle down pretty quickly.”  Isak nods, but makes an excuse to go to his room.  Something about studying.  Even reluctantly lets him go; he knows Isak will need a moment to sort out his emotions before he can face something this chaotic.  Eskild may have taught him to tolerate things loud and boisterous, but this is different.  These are people Isak doesn’t know.  

After he leaves the room, Even goes to help Yousef.  He’s glaring at the camera in his hands while standing near the window.  There’s a soft glow surrounding him, giving an ethereal feeling to his features, so Yousef’s next words are no surprise to Even.

“Okay.  The light’s best here, right?  But it’s a difficult spot to put the camera, so I’m not sure …”

He gestures at the surroundings which do, indeed, look awkward for placing the camera anywhere steady enough to be of use.

“Hmmm …” Even’s immediately intrigued by the problem.  “But you could tape it up there.”  He points to the corner of the room.  “And point it towards this part of the room.”  He gestures an angle pointing down, then imitates a swoop down to the point where they’re standing with his hands.  “That way you’d get a cool angle and the light would still be good.”

“Mikael!”  Yousef yells, making Even jump a little before he can stop himself.  He’s still not used to these guys again, either.  “Mikael!  You were right; Even does know this stuff better.”

“Told you!” Mikael says, grinning at Even from across the room.  He nods at where Yousef is already trying to wedge the camera.  “That’s going to make a fantastic shot.”

Even flushes, feeling gratified that his old friends value his opinion.  They work quietly after that, carefully setting up the other things they need around the camera’s line of sight.  There’s both more and less equipment than Even expected and he says as much.

“Oh, this?  We don’t usually have this stuff, usually it’s just the camera.  Minimalist, you know?  But your place here is a bit echoey, so we need some sound stuff today.”

Even hums a little, recognizing the sense of what they’re doing even while he feels a thrill at having this called ‘his place’ as if he really does belong here.  For videos that seem very casual and easy, the set up does seem to take a lot of time.  It’s just the three of them working together but eventually they have it set up to the satisfaction of both Yousef and Mikael.

“You haven’t said why you needed an apartment?” Even says once they’re all sitting down on one of the couches, legs tangled together the way they used to be when they all tried to squeeze onto one piece of furniture.  He realizes that where they are they’d be in the perfect spot to be filmed.  

“Well, actually …” Mikael says now, a cheeky grin on his face.  “Actually, we just wanted to film you.”

Even sputters.  “What?  Why?  I’m not interesting!”

“Oh but you are!  The missing link, the one time forgot … the prodigal bro.”

Laughing, Even pushes him.  “Prodigal bro?  That’s such bullshit.”

“No, but seriously Even,” Yousef says, “we wanted to … like, apologize.  Me and Mikael.  We know it was us who were the biggest problem for you, back when … well …”

“And I thought, screw it, you know?” Mikael added.  “Let’s do it right.  Film that bastard.”  He turns to Even.  “We won’t put it in a video though.  Not if you don’t want us to.”

“The other boys can come later and we’ll do something funny with the apartment,” Yousef says.  “In the meantime, we could film this.”  Even’s stomach plummets.  He really doesn’t want all of this recorded, even if it’s just going to be private.  Yousef must notice because his face softens, the huge grin slipping into a softer smile and he adds, “or … we really could do a ‘welcome back Even’ video.  If you’d be okay with it.”

Even lets out a shaky breath and says, “I’d prefer that yeah.  I don’t … I’m not sure this part is something I’ll want to relive.”

Nodding understanding, Mikael grins and slides his arm along the back of the couch behind Even’s shoulders.  It’s such a familiar gesture that it makes something ache in Even’s heart.  He’s missed this, missed  _ them. _

“I don’t think we said enough the other day,” Mikael says.  “It was pretty shitty what we did to you.”

Even frowns.  He feels like they already went over this, that they established that he was in the wrong and they’ve forgiven him now.  It’s a peaceful feeling and he’s not sure he wants to rock the boat.

“No, but you were right,” he says, to try to stave off whatever this is.  “I was scared but I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

Yousef smiles, softly.  “All that’s true, but we … I … said some terrible things to you back when it was all, you know …” He flaps his hand, trying to indicate a chaotic moment.  “I was pissed about Sonja and so I took it out on you, but I never really thought about how  _ you _ would feel about that.”

There’s a rustling noise behind them, and Even doesn’t have to look to know Isak has come in again and has settled behind Even, leaning against the back of the couch.  He reaches a hand back and smiles when Isak takes it, rubbing his fingers over Even’s knuckles.

“Feel about what?” Isak asks, and Even blushes.

“I … uh … kind of … might have …” he trails off, still not sure how he can say this to Isak without it seeming like a big deal that he’s hidden it for so long.

“We didn’t make it easy for Even when he had his big episode last year, that’s all,” Mikael cuts in.  “Some stuff happened but a lot of it was the illness--”

“It wasn’t,” Even jumps in.  “It’s how I really felt.”  It’s important to Even that Mikael recognizes that, that he understand that part of it, so he waits for his nod before he continues.  “I just … it was easier to say and do those things because I thought I owned the world.”

Isak’s grip on his hand has tightened and Even can feel his confusion.  He turns his head and presses a kiss to the fingers he can reach and glances up at Isak.  His face is filled with fondness but there is worry there too.

Mikael, bless him, grins at Isak.  “Hi, you must be the famous Isak.  I know we saw each other once but we never really met.  I’m Mikael.”  He shakes Isak’s hand and then settles back with another cheerful grin as if there’s no tension and no weirdness and honestly, Even finds that such a blessing, as it takes some of the heat out of the charged atmosphere.  Yousef then introduces himself as well, and Isak relaxes a little though he still looks confused.

“Look, I was an asshole,” Yousef says to Even.  “I wanted to support Mikael, but I forgot about supporting you.  I forgot that maybe I should let you talk and give your side before I went jumping to conclusions, and I’m sorry for that.”

Even shrugs, feeling awkward.  He’s lived with this for so long as his fault and his burden to carry, and he regrets the outburst when he was with the boys the other day.  He’d never intended to make  _ them _ take on that burden.  “I had Sonja,” he says, trying to let them know he’d been okay.

The others grimace.  “She’s great and all, and you know I love her,” Yousef says.  “But … it wasn’t right for us to act like you were the bad guy.  You needed friends and we screwed that up.”

Mikael sits forward again and says, urgently, “you do believe us that’s it’s not the kissing itself right?  We don’t care if you like boys.”

Isak stirs behind him and Even squeezes his hand again while laughing.  “Yeah I did get that last time.  I’m sorry for thinking that’s what it was …”

“So okay, we’re all sorry.  We all screwed up.  Some more than others.” Yousef glances pointedly at Mikael, who raises his hands in a ‘what did I do?’ gesture.  “I just … Even, we miss you and I want to know what we can do so that we can be better friends now.”

Feeling his throat clogging with emotion, Even just nods.  He drops Isak’s hand and reaches for Yousef to pull him into a hug.  “You don’t have to do anything.  Just … just treat me like I’m normal.”

“You  _ are _ normal.”  Isak’s voice is fierce and both Even and Yousef startle at the tone.  “Look,” Isak carries on.  “I don’t know what happened, not really, and I don’t need you to tell me.  But,” he looks down at Even with an intensity he’d forgotten Isak could have, “but you need to remember that you’re an everyday, normal person like everyone else, and no-one should make you feel like you’re not.”  He looks like he’s going to take on the world, Even included, if it even thinks of suggesting there’s anything wrong with Even.  

“Yeah, listen to that kid,” Mikael says.  “He speaks sense.  Even … you’re a dick and we love you.  That hasn’t changed.  All that’s changed is that we have a bit of gap-filling to do.”  He chuckles.  “And a lot of missed filming opportunities.”

“What do you reckon?” Yousef asks.  “Can we just try to be what we were?  It’s been boring without you.”

“Yeah,” Mikael agrees.  “No-one rants about Baz Luhrmann and camera angles and symbolism and shit anymore.”

“Oh that’s all you want me for?  My excessive knowledge of movies?”

“Well, obviously,” says Yousef with a laugh.  “How else will we improve our camera work and become the best edited channel on YouTube?”

Even laughs, feeling happier than he has in a while.  “Yeah, speaking of that: your editing is shit.  Who thought flame emojis would work?”

Mikael lets out a howl of protest.  “Come  _ on; _ they’re cool!”

Even shakes his head.  “They’re really not.”

The banter carries on for an hour or so before they decide the others aren’t coming but ask if they can leave the camera up to film maybe the next day.  Isak joins in as much as he can and he seems comfortable enough after his initial hesitation.  But once they’ve left, he sinks onto Even’s lap and sighs.  His eyes are heavy and he looks exhausted.

“You okay, baby?”

“Mmmmmm?” Isak’s eyes are fluttering and he’s clearly not really focused so Even laughs and pulls him in closer.

“Need some sleep huh?”

“I thought  _ you _ were excitable …”

Even snorts, pressing his lips to Isak’s neck and brushing them along it in a way that makes Isak shiver.  

“You should see it when they’re all together.”

“I’d like that,” Isak says, his voice a pleasant sleepy hum against Even’s own neck.  “They’re nice.”

“Yeah,” Even says, smiling as he thinks back over the last few hours.  “They really are.  I missed them.”

In answer, Isak slings his arm around Even’s neck and sighs in contentment.  Even laughs, feeling the way Isak’s body is relaxing into sleep.  He drops sideways so they’re lying on the couch, then carefully slips Isak’s arms away from his own body and slides out from under him.  Isak’s almost asleep, but the absence clearly registers as he grumbles and clutches at Even.

“Shhh, baby.  It’s okay.  I’m going to go make some dinner.  You have a nap, okay?”

Isak mumbles something incoherent and wriggles until he’s on his front with his hand tucked up under a cushion.  Even smiles, affection bursting in his heart as he brushes a kiss onto Isak’s forehead and watches the way his lips curve into a smile at the touch.

An hour later, a still-sleepy Isak stumbles into the kitchen as if lured there by some mystical connection with the oven letting him know that food is finally ready.  They eat, sitting side by side at the tiny table, legs and arms pressed together.  It’s cozy, domestic and Even finds himself hoping again that they get to have this forever.

“Do you think we’ll always be like this?” he asks.  Isak raises a brow at him in silent query and he sniggers.  “Like … you and me in a home together.  Maybe without anyone else someday.”

Isak examines Even, eyes flitting over his face and a smile growing.  “Yeah,” he says.  “One day.”

Even smiles.  He knows that right now is not the time to be thinking about this, that having moved in together so early is ridiculous.  And yet, he’s so happy and comfortable that it feels like they’ve been doing this for years already, not weeks.  The idea of moving in with Sonja had always felt so grown up and so final, like that would be the end of Even as the young person, of Even as someone who could let loose and have fun and so he’d unconsciously resisted it.  It’s different with Isak.  It feels like something inevitable, like it’s a part of his life, like breathing or sleeping.  Like the very idea of not moving into their own place someday is just laughable.  It doesn’t feel like an ending at all; it feels like it would be just another chapter in a long running TV show.  They’ve done the meeting, the heartbreak, the reconciliation, the growth.  This would be a spinoff maybe, a new show for a new part of their lives.  Even grins.  Whenever it comes it just feels right.  He sees the same feeling reflected back at him in Isak’s eyes.

He’s wide awake now and there’s a teasing glint in his eye as he leans in closer to Even.  

“It’s getting cold in here, baby.  You wanna … go somewhere warmer?”

Even laughs.  Playful Isak is one of his favorite things, so he plays along a little.

“You want to leave this nice, warm kitchen with its nice, warm oven and its dishes which need washing to go to the bedroom which is cold and has no heating because apparently it didn’t need a wall heater …”

Isak’s eyes are alight and he’s moved to press his knee against Even’s while running a hand through his hair.  The movement sends ripples of desire flooding through Even’s body, which reacts predictably and instantly.  It’s almost distracting enough for Even to give in immediately but he resists.

“Mmmmhmm.” Isak nods, his eyes now fixated on Even’s lips and barely flickering up to Even’s as he lets out a small whimper.

“But, Isak … how on earth will the bedroom be warmer than in here?”  Even manages to gasp the words out, as he tries to ignore the effects of Isak’s other hand sliding up the inside of his thigh.  

Isak grins then, and this time he does hold Even’s gaze, his stare direct and confident.  “Because I’ll be there and you’ll be there and there won’t be any clothes …”

“Fuck!  Isak, I …”

Isak sits back a little, an innocent look in his eyes though his fingers continue to tease at the top of Even’s thigh.  “Yeah?  You’d rather do the dishes?”

“Mmmm,” Even says, his dick already hard.  “No.  No, I think you have very sensible and wise ideas.  Heat conservation …”

He trails off as Isak presses a kiss right under his ear which sends a shiver down his spine and makes him moan.

It takes time to get to the bedroom because they spend so much time kissing on the way, pausing at the couch, against a wall, in the doorway to the room just to touch, to press together, to revel in the feelings generated whenever their lips meet.  The more he kisses, the more Even wants to kiss, and the more Isak kisses him.  This feedback loop is intense, and Even groans as he tries to get even closer.  Isak’s fingers are running everywhere as he wrestles with Even’s clothes, leaving trails of heated fire in his wake.  Even wonders idly, as his body is lighting up from Isak’s touch, if this will ever change.  He knows, theoretically, that this is all about hormones and that it should fade with time.  But the thing is … it hasn’t.  It isn’t.  Isak’s touch has much the same effect on Even that it did the first time they ever brushed fingers.

They make it to the bed, clothes completely gone before they reach it.  Isak pushes Even down onto it and climbs after him.  It’s cold, colder than Even had even jokingly suggested.  His skin is pebbled with the chill and he can see his breath misting in the air.  Isak laughs, sending his own puff of insubstantial smoke into the air.

“This isn’t ideal,” Even says, allowing himself to chuckle.  The best part of all of this, his relationship with Isak, is that he  _ can _ laugh at times like this.  Sex isn’t serious, it’s not treated like something that should be done a certain way.  He’s allowed to have fun, and while he always knew he’d prefer something like this, it sometimes hits Even just how much better this all is now.  

“You’re weak, old man,” Isak says, cutting into his thoughts and giggling when Even gasps in faux outrage.  “You need a blanket?”

Even’s teeth start chattering a little and he growls; it’s playful with none of the baggage that growls used to carry and Even grins.  “If you want me to be any use to you at all, yes.”

Isak pretends to consider the idea for a moment before scrambling to get them under the covers until they’re lying facing each other.

“One day when we have our own place, the bedroom’s going to have so much fucking heat,” he says, his own teeth chattering now.

Even gathers him in, wrapping his arms around Isak, and enjoying the lingering warmth of his body where it presses against his own.  His dick is still rigid and it’s pressing against Isak’s leg.  He can feel Isak’s against his own thigh.  It’s comforting, which makes him huff out another laugh.  The things his brain chooses to take comfort in are sometimes baffling to Even, but he’ll take this.  Isak is always comforting, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that this is too.  

“One day, baby, I’ll make sure of it.”

Isak kisses Even, hard.  He pulls back and grins.  “Say it again?”

“I’ll make sure we have enough heat in our bedroom?”

“I fucking love you,” Isak whispers as his face softens and he surges into Even again.  

This time they stop talking, their hands wandering.  Even caresses Isak’s ass, enjoying the solid feel of it in his hands.  Isak runs his free hand over Even’s shoulder and down his back, making Even shiver.  Their kisses burn against Even’s lips, and he pulls Isak closer to him, slotting them together.  Isak’s leg hitches over Even’s hip and he gasps as that causes their dicks to press together.  It’s sending fire through Even’s veins and he knows, suddenly, what he wants.

“Baby?”

“Mmmm?”

“Can you …?”  He stops for a moment, breathless, as Isak grinds his hips and Even sees stars.  “I want you to fuck me?  From behind?”

Isak’s eyes widen a little at that.  They haven’t often had sex where Even wasn’t the one inside Isak.  They both enjoyed it when they did, but Even tended to feel a little overwhelmed at the lack of control.  But today … today he wants to do it, he wants to let go.  It might have been the talk of future domesticity, but Even trusts Isak implicitly and he wants to show Isak that.  His head tries to confuse him sometimes, but he’s determined.  Today he’s giving in to the sensations.  Forget what he should like and want; right now Even wants to shut all his thoughts off and just experience it all.

The moment lengthens and Even smiles, encouragingly.  “Can we do that?”

“Yeah,” Isak says, a sudden depth to his gaze.  “Yeah, we can do that.”

They kiss again, tongues connecting and making Even almost dizzy with the heady bliss of it.  They separate a little, but remain close enough to hear barely-there whispers.

“You ready, baby?” Isak asks now and Even nods.  He’s ready, his body thrumming with excitement as he lies down, back firm against the bed allowing him to feel tethered.  Isak presses kisses to his chest and down until his lips skim Even’s hip bone, making his breath come in short quick pants.  

His hands lingering where his lips had just been, and leaving trails of heat behind them, Isak reaches for the lube and condoms, and Even takes a deep breath and turns over.  He settles so his upper body is on the bed and his legs are positioned so he’s on his knees and his ass is slightly raised.  He feels exposed and vulnerable.  They don’t do this often, even with Isak in this position, preferring to look at each other.  Even so, the memory of Isak lying just like this, with his head buried in a pillow to muffle his cries and his ass on prominent display flashes through Even’s mind.  The idea that Isak is seeing him like that right now sends heat flooding through him despite the chill in the air.

It’s strange, this feeling.  He’s dependant on Isak; there’s no way for Even to know what’s coming or when.  Isak seems to instinctively know that’s a little scary for Even, as he keeps up a constant whispered litany.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.  So hot.  I’m going to touch you right here …” a gentle press of his finger against Even’s rim makes Even jolt with sudden, unexpected desire.  “I’m going to make you feel really good, okay baby?”  Whimpering, Even nods.

And so it goes.  Isak is so gentle.  He presses his lubed fingers inside Even one by one, making sure Even’s comfortable each time.  He whispers encouragements, tells Even he’s sexy, his breath hitches every time Even presses back or moans or otherwise expresses how much he’s enjoying this, apparently just as affected as Even is by this.  Through it all, heat is consuming Even but there’s no fear or uncertainty.  He’s happy giving the control to Isak so thoroughly, focused on his voice and his fingers and no room for anything else in his thoughts.  It’s so good, and Even is flushed with sweat making small trails down his back when Isak finally pulls his fingers out and presses a kiss to Even’s back just at the juncture where his shoulders meet his neck.  Even shudders, feeling it all the way through his spine and down through his dick.

“Are you ready?” Isak’s voice is gentle behind Even, and Even turns his head so he can see his face.  He looks so earnest, so fucking _ turned on, _ that Even has to kiss him.  

“I’m ready,” he agrees when their lips part.  He needs that anchor, he knows.  That feeling of Isak right there with him.  It’s so much like this, where he can’t really rely on sight and has to use his other senses.  He needs Isak to ground him a little.

The press as Isak enters is intense and Even takes in a sharp breath, forcing himself to relax.  He’s surrounded by Isak now as he leans over Even’s back to kiss his jaw as he slides in fully.  Even’s back arches against him, pressing them closer.  Isak’s scent is all around Even, a heady mix of fresh sweat and musk.  His arms rest beside Even’s own, boxing him in and making him feel protected.  His breath is warm on Even’s neck, sending shockwaves shuddering through him.  The sound of his pants, as he pulls out and then presses back in, reverberates through Even’s body.  

Isak’s thrusts gather pace and Even can feel himself sliding toward release.  There are no thoughts intruding, no small voice pestering him about what he should be thinking and feeling.  There’s just pure sensation.  All he can focus on is the blinding pleasure as Isak’s dick hits his prostate at almost every thrust, the wet sounds as their bodies slap together, the warmth of Isak’s body covering his own, the way his own voice cries out in the darkened room.  It feels safe, and Even lets himself give in to it, lets himself get caught up in the moment.

“Fuck, I’m so close, baby,” Isak stutters, his breath coming in short gasps.  

“You can … it’s okay, baby.  Come if you need to,” Even says, his voice so low and guttural he hardly recognizes it.  And that’s all it takes before Isak’s shuddering and his thrusts become uneven as he tries to keep going through his orgasm.  Even’s panting, his own breaths coming in uncontrolled bursts as he tries to settle his heart rate.

Isak withdraws and Even feels it as a loss, both emotional and physical.  He mourns the closeness already and it takes several long moments before he even notices that he’s still hard and now aching.  

“Baby,” Isak says now, pushing on Even and encouraging him to roll over.  “I love you.”  He’s straddling Even, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed with his recent orgasm.  His hair is a matted mess, clinging to his skull, and his chest is still rising heavily as he tries to calm himself.

He takes hold of Even’s dick and strokes, his gaze holding Even’s the entire time.  He’s used some more lube and the slick movement of his hand has Even hissing in relief.  It’s slow and soft, a counterpoint to the speed and energy of the thrusting before.  The contrast has Even heated and gasping within seconds.  He tries to keep his eyes on Isak’s but it’s too much and he closes them, allowing himself to fully lose himself in the sensations.  Then there’s a rustle and Isak has slid down the bed and his mouth is wrapped around Even.  Even’s hips jolt up from the bed and he moans.  The rest of his body is cooling, the sweat laying trails for the chilled air to discover, but his dick in Isak’s mouth feels red hot and all his energy and attention is on that one point.

It’s not long before Even feels the telltale buildup that means he’s close.  He scrabbles to let Isak know, but Isak just grins at him briefly around his dick and sucks hard enough to hollow his cheeks.  The suction pushes Even over the brink, and he’s coming finally, pouring into Isak’s mouth.  Isak licks him gently as he shudders through the aftershocks.  It takes a while before Even’s heart returns to a normal rhythm, and by then Isak has cleaned them both and is cuddled into Even’s side.

“You’re okay?” Isak asks.  He knows, of course he does, that Even was feeling vulnerable and he always checks in after if that’s been the case, to make sure Even’s in a good place.

Even kisses his head.  “More than okay,” he says, letting his affection seep into his voice.  “It was great.”  He huffs out a laugh.  “More than great.  I don’t … It’s never been like that before.  Thank you.”

He kisses Isak again, trying to convey everything in it; how treasured Isak makes him feel, how easy it is to be himself with Isak, how he never feels judged.  Isak hums into it, and Even hopes he gets it, hopes he can sense everything Even’s trying to say.   They lie like that for a few minutes, each in their own thoughts.  Even’s thinking about how much he enjoyed this experience, how good it was to lose focus in that way, to have to rely on something other than sight.  He remembers how good it was to put so much trust in Isak and have it treasured, protected and valued.  He shuffles a little, and Isak tilts his head up to look at him.

“Mmmm?” he asks, sensing perhaps that Even’s restlessness is leading to something.

“It might be interesting … uh...” 

Even finds himself squirming a little.  He’s still in a post-sex haze and so relaxed, but he can feel a tension coming back as he thinks about this, about  _ saying _ this.  As if he can sense Even’s hesitations, Isak turns his head and kisses his chest.

“What might be interesting?”

Even can feel the heat in his cheeks and he thanks his lucky stars that Isak’s not looking at his face, but rather tracing patterns on his body.  “Oh … well.  You know when … when it’s like that?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Isak agrees.  “I do know.”

There’s heat and fondness in his voice and Even smiles.

“Well, you can’t see much, right?”  Even waits for Isak’s nod against his chest before he continues.  “I was thinking it might … might be interesting to see what it’s like not seeing at all.”

“Like a blindfold?”

“Mmmm,” Even says.  “It’s just a thought, because it was really intense …”

“Yes,” Isak says.  “I think we should.  I’d … I think I’d like that too.”

Relief floods Even as Isak agrees so easily to what he wants.  It’s still not easy for Even to ask for the things he wants; he’s still wary of asking because his experiences have so often ended in being shot down or ridiculed.  He thanks his lucky stars, again, that he realized that Sonja wasn’t right for him before he tied himself to her for life.  Archetype or not, Isak’s been so good, so perfect for a Beast who just wants to have some fun.  

“I love you,” Even says, pulling him in tighter, thankful again for everything he is and does for Even.  “You make everything easy.”

Isak sighs, the sound blissful, and there’s wonder in his voice when he says, “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Oh, baby,” Even says.  “You deserve to be told that every day.”

Isak drifts into sleep.  Even’s always loved the way he does that, the way he has so much trust in Even that he’s comfortable sleeping naked and vulnerable in his arms, trusting that Even will be there and keep him safe.  

It hits him suddenly that Christmas isn’t far away and that he needs to get Isak a gift.  But what do you get someone that lets you tell them everything they mean to you?  How do you say  _ you give me everything _ in physical form?  Books, gift vouchers, even merchandise from his favourite shops … none of that really sums up what Even wants to say with his gift.  He wants it to be special.  Here, with Isak in his arms, Even needs to tell him what these last few months have truly meant.  He thinks back to the way he was before he met Isak: closed off, anxious, unhappy, frustrated with his life and everything in it.  He thinks about the ways in which he’s changed since that first meeting those short weeks ago.

That’s what he needs to do, Even realizes.  He needs to  _ show _ Isak all the ways in which he’s made Even’s life better.  And to do that he needs to go back to skills he’s set aside for a long time, and find the little moments he’s been capturing on his phone.  It’s a little daunting, but Even has the time and if it doesn’t work he can try again or think of something else.  Humming, imagining the way this is going to look, Even snuggles closer to Isak and lets his dreams pull him into sleep.

The filming with his old friends goes well; they talk a little about their lives and Even’s life and the ways they’ve diverged.  When Adam asks Even to help edit he finds it hard to keep the emotions in.  He’s missed these guys, so much, and this easy acceptance back into their lives means everything to him.  The editing is hard work, and he’s rusty, slipping sometimes as he tries to fumble through, but Even finds his fingers do eventually remember what to do despite how long it’s been and he laughs more than he has in a long time.  

In between helping with the editing, Even works feverishly on the gift whenever Isak isn’t around.  Of course, that isn’t often but Even can’t bring himself to make himself spend time away from Isak when he doesn’t have to, so he steals late nights and early mornings and he’s happy. There’s only one thing now that nags at Even, that means he’s not completely content: his mother.  He’s heard a little from his father about her reaction to the news about the different types of Beasts, but he hasn’t been back to see them since that day.  He’s been too busy dealing with everything else in his life, but there are moments when Eve admits to himself that it’s cowardice, that he just doesn’t want to face whatever his mother has in store.  She’s left one message on his phone, but Even has been ignoring it.  He finally opens it again and stares down at it.

_ Hi Even.  You father and I would like it very much if you and Isak would come for dinner.  Is there a day that might suit you? _

He takes a breath and decide he has to face it eventually, might as well be now.   _ Mamma. Hei.  We’re free any day this week? _

Her answer is so fast, Even think she probably waited for it all this time.   _ What about tomorrow? _

When Isak agrees, Even sends her an acceptance.  Her answering message is filled with heart emojis and effusive joy that she’ll see them soon.  Even’s heart sinks.  He’s been an such an asshole and regrets how distanced he’s been.  Her delight that he’s coming sits cold in his heart and he resolves to be better about it from now on.  Starting tomorrow.

 

“Hiiii!  Boys.  How are you?”  Even’s mother smiles at them both cheerfully as they remove their outerwear in the hallway, shedding layers as they encounter the sudden heat.  “Dinner’s not quite ready, so we’re just waiting for a little bit in the living room.  Do you want a drink while we wait?”

Isak has paused, his shoes in his hands and his mouth slightly agape as he looks at her.  She’s speaking so fast that Even can feel the tension simmering in her, but he also knows she’s trying.  So he squeezes Isak’s arm to get his attention, and raises his brow when Isak looks at him.  There’s a slight twitch of lips and a nod of the head, so Even grins at his mother, wraps her in a hug and says, “we’d love a drink.  Coffee if you have it; it’s fu … really cold out there.”

Even grimaces as he almost slips up.  He’s forgotten, in the weeks that’ve passed since he was here for any length of time, to temper his words for his mother’s sensibilities.  She gives him a look as she steps back, and beside him Even can hear Isak sniggering.  He counts that as an unintentional win.  If his slip ups and embarrassments can help ease Isak while they’re here then Even will fuck up as much as humanly possible.

They settle onto the furniture in the living room, Even on the biggest couch with Isak pressed close in beside him.  The coffee is warm in their hands and the lingering cold from the air outside has been pushed away.  It’s cozy, the wall heater making the room warm enough that it’s pleasant to sit in, but not too hot that it isn’t also nice to be snuggled with someone. Even’s mother shuffles a little as she stares across the room at them.  Isak, who had been slightly more relaxed since Even’s almost faux pas, tenses beside Even as he eyes his mother warily.  It’s just the three of them, Even’s father having gone to check on the food, and she leans forward hastily.

“Even.  I need to tell you I’m sorry,” she says.  “I didn’t know ....”

So, Even’s father must have told her about the types of Beast then.  Even grimaces.  He hadn’t wanted to deal with this just yet, not while things were still so strained between Isak and his parents.  Still, it’s here now and he can’t ignore it.

“It’s okay, “ he says.  “We couldn’t know; it’s not like it’s a proper study.”

“It’s not a proper study,” Isak says, cutting in. “But it’s still valid.  That book, it kicked off a movement and there’s some people pushing for real studies.  It won’t be long now.  I think we’ll see some actual studies conducted in the next year or so; even in the small time since we found that book there’s been a big increase in online discussion of the idea.”

He’s moved to the edge of the couch, sitting forward and gesticulating with his free hand, to try to emphasize his points.  Even’s mother is looking at him with shining eyes.  “You’re very passionate,” she says.  

“Oh.”  Isak blushes, looking down at the floor and twisting his hands on his mug.  “I’m sorry.  I just … science, you know.  It’s so interesting.  Biology and stuff.”

“No, don’t apologize,” she says.  “You should be proud to be so interested and knowledgeable about something.  It … uh.  It shows a lot about your character.”

Behind her words, Even can hear the shame, the knowledge that she hasn’t been fair to Isak.  He knows she won’t go further than this, that even this admission would be hard for her.  She’s used to being right, in control, the one who decides and knows things.  That’s how her life as a Beast has been.  But this very slight admission that she at least admires Isak’s character a little is huge.  Even can tell Isak understands too.  He sits back with a small smile and a blush still sitting high on his cheeks.

“So, Isak,” Even’s father says as he comes back into the room and sits down in a chair near to his wife’s, but not the interrogation chair Even is amused to note, “you’re a second year?”

“Yeah, I am.”  Isak tilts his head so his chin juts defiantly.  He’s so obviously used to people looking down on him for being younger than Even by so much, and he goes on the defensive immediately.  Or, maybe it’s not  _ people, _ Even realizes.  Maybe it’s just his parents and how their actions have made Isak feel.  

“You don’t live at home, though?  Even though you’re so young?  That must be hard.”  Pappa’s voice is interested, and there’s no hint that he’s trying to make anyone feel awkward.  And yet, he’s chosen to speak about  _ that. _

Isak’s laugh is bitter, and Even’s heart seizes a little.  They’re trying so hard, his parents, to make Isak feel welcome,  but this is the worst possible topic they could have come up with.  Not least because Even himself isn’t exactly living at home, despite his parents still pretending he does, and there’s a lot of baggage there for Isak let alone the stuff with his own family.  Even’s desperately casting around for something to say to move the conversation into safer waters when Isak speaks.

“It’s not easy, but it was my best option at the time,” he says.  “It’s not … things haven’t always been great with my family.”  He shrugs.  “So it was best not to be there.”

There’s real sympathy in Even’s mother’s eyes when she reaches out to clasp Isak’s hand.  “For what it’s worth, I think you’ve turned out very well.  So whatever you did, whyever you did it, it was a good thing.”

“You think he turned out well?”  Even can’t quite keep the disbelief from his voice, and he hears his father’s rich chuckle and his mother’s staccato laugh as he glances at Isak who looks just as shocked as Even feels.

“Yes, Even.  Contrary to what you might think, I have always thought Isak was a nice boy.”

Beside him, Isak is restless, shuffling a little in his seat, but Even is so astonished by her words that he can’t do anything but gape for a few seconds.  “Mamma.  You tried to break us up.  You … you didn’t want me to stay with him.  What …?”

“None of that means we didn’t like  _ him, _ Even,” his father adds this time.  “We were just worried about the whole Beast thing.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Isak says, and Even smirks.  Isak’s shooting daggered looks at Even’s parents, which in some ways is progress.  The Isak who was anxious and worried about what they’d think of him would never have said anything quite so bold, nor would he be so cocky in his attitude.  Even squeezes his hand and Isak shoots him a tiny smile.

“No, you’re right,” Mamma says now.  “I’ve been worried.  Of course I have.  Even’s my son and he’s not well and … well.”  She turns to Even.  “We should have trusted you more.  That book … it was helpful.  But we should have seen anyway.  I mean, we sort of did see, but we didn’t want to admit it.”

“Admit …” Even takes a shaky breath, his attention hyperfocused on his mother.  “Admit what?”  There’s hope sitting in Even’s chest now, lighting him on fire.  But he’s trying to hold it back in case she’s not saying what he’s been desperate to hear for so long now.

“Admit that you knew yourself better than we did and that we should have let you make those decisions.  You were never quite like a Beast was expected to be.”  She looks down and her voice is close to a whisper now.  “I’m sorry, Even.  I should have listened to you.”

“Mamma …”

Even can hear the break in his voice, and he chances a look at his mother.  Her chin is wobbling and she’s looking at him with brimming eyes.  Beside him, Isak has his hand in a strong grip and Even’s sure that’s the only thing keeping him tethered.  It both hurts and salves Even more than he’d expected to hear her say those words, and he takes a shuddering breath trying to compose himself.

“Mamma.  I know it wasn’t … that you weren’t …”  He sighs, breathily, as he sucks in enough air to keep talking.  “It hurt, all that stuff.  But you didn’t know.  So …”

He looks over at her properly, reaches his hand out.  She takes it in hers, fingers trembling as they touch his own.  He grasps it, squeezes, smiles at her.  The air around him seems strangely thick and Even is finding it hard to see through the sheen of tears in his own eyes.

His father clears his throat next to his mother and Even looks over at him.  He laughs, the sound wet with his unshed tears, as he notices the tight grip his father has on his mother’s hand.  It’s such a mirror of Isak’s on his own hand that it’s almost painful, and Even clutches Isak’s hand harder in appreciation of everything he does for Even.  Even’s watched his parents work together -- almost in a dance -- for his entire life, and the fact that Isak unconsciously mirrors them satisfies something in Even’s heart.

“So … we should have dinner, then?” Even’s dad says.  “It’s ready now.”

The question is so mundane that it breaks some of the tension that’s been hovering in the room, and the movement through to the kitchen calms even more.  After his mother’s admission, Isak has relaxed and the tone in the kitchen is pleasant, and even fun in some ways.  Even’s mother takes delight in telling every story of how Even would put his foot down as a tiny Beast and she has Isak in stitches through the whole meal, despite Even’s embarrassed protestations.

By the end of the evening, the two of them are getting on so well that they retire to the living room to look through old photo albums while Even and his father clean up the dishes.

“I’m proud of you, Even,” his father says after they’ve been working together for a few moments.

Startled, Even looks over at him, his hands stilling in the soapy water.  His father catches the look and smiles.

“You’ve taken everything so well, and you seem really settled.  It’s nice.” He hums for a moment or so, looking Even over.  “You and Isak … it seems good?”

“It is good, Pappa.  Really good.  I’m … happy.”

“I’m glad,” his father says.  “I don’t think we tell you enough how proud we are and how happy we are that you’re happy.”

“That’s … it’s okay, Pappa.”

“Well, you should hear it, so I just wanted to say it.  You’re … you’re a good person, and Isak seems like a good person too.”

“He is, Pappa.”

Smiling, feeling a contentment that he doesn’t often feel when he’s not with Isak, Even soon finishes washing and leans on the counter while he waits for his father.  It’s nice, and for the first time Even feels like they can do this.  That he can have an adult relationship with his parents and that Isak can be part of it too.  

On their way out an hour or so later, Even’s mother pulls him into a hug.  “I love you,” she whispers in his ear.  “You look after yourself and that boy, okay?”

He nods against her cheek, leaning down into her embrace and smiling.  “I will.”

“And you come back here sometimes.  I know your home is elsewhere now.”  She pulls back a little so she can look up into his face.  He must look as shocked as he feels because she laughs and pats his cheek.  “You’re making a new life now, Even, and … it’s good.   _ You’re _ good.”

“Thanks, Mamma,” he whispers as she steps back fully.  She smiles and turns to hug Isak as well, whispering something in his ear that makes him blush.

Grinning, happy and content, Even takes his hand and they walk out into the crisp night and head to the tram.  The Christmas lights around them from homes, and strung through streets they pass by, add to the warm feeling Even has.  He’s not sure that things are completely settled between his parents and himself, and particularly Isak, but it’s so much better now that Even can imagine a time in the future where this will all be a forgotten dream -- or something to look back at with a fond laugh.  

 

Miraculously, Eskild has managed to make the flat actually feel warm ahead of the party he’s holding that evening.  He’s bustling around, fiddling with his decorations which, in true Eskild style, veer to the inappropriate.  Even laughs when he sees the elaborately decorated dicks everywhere.

“Very Christmassy,” he says with a grin as Eskild hurries past with an armful of garlands which he’s clearly on a mission to coat the kollectiv with.

“It’s important to make an impression, Even,” Eskild says as he carefully hangs a bright red one that he’s festooned with homemade, hand-cut dicks.

He’s so harried that Even decides to keep out of his way.  He’s a little anxious about this party if he’s being entirely honest.  This is the first time he and Isak have been totally open in front of a lot of people in a social situation.  It’s going to be all Isak’s friends, Eskild’s co-workers, some other people from school and all of Even’s old friends too.  He knows that most of them know anyway, but there’s still a worry that someone will react badly particularly now that news of his type is indeed leaking out into the wider school.

Even pushes the door to Isak’s bedroom open and stills to take in what he sees inside.  Isak is busy, carefully tucking in his sheets and straightening them with precision.  

“What are you doing, baby?” he asks, stepping inside.

“Oh.  They needed a wash since it's been a week or two and I figured it would be nice to have fresh sheets when we go to bed tonight.  You know, after the party.”

Isak seems to have finally got the corners as straight as he wants them, and reaches for his covers, shaking them and laying them just as carefully on top.  He stands back in admiration after he smoothes them all down, and sinks back into Even’s embrace when he hugs him from behind.  Even kisses his neck, then whispers, “you didn’t have to.”

“I know.  But it’s nice, right?  And … and I know this is going to be a lot tonight and I thought maybe it’d be good for you to have something nice to go to after.”

Once again, Even is struck by how thoughtful Isak is.  He tries hard to act like someone who’s cool and collected and who doesn’t give a shit about the world, probably as a result of being an Outcast.  But under it all, he’s so kind and he always thinks about Even’s comfort.

“I love you, Isak.”

“Mmmm.”  Isak turns in his arms and smiles.  “I love you too.”

That reminds Even.  He’s been itching to show Isak his gift ever since he finally got it finished yesterday, and he knows he can’t wait until Christmas Eve to give it to him.

“Baby?” he says now, his voice soft.  “I know we’re supposed to wait ‘til Christmas, but I have something and I really just want to give it you now.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Isak says, which isn’t quite the reaction Even had intended.  His surprise must show on his face because Isak laughs and pushes him away before walking to his closet.  “I’ve been wanting to give you yours for days but I thought you’d want to wait.”

He scrabbles in the back of the closet, cursing as he tries to drag something out.  Even’s curious; he’s not sure what on earth could be that difficult to move, but it becomes clear that it’s actually the piles of clothes Isak has laid on top of whatever it is that are giving him grief.

“You okay, baby?  Need some help?”

“No.  Fuck you.  I can do this.”  Isak’s panting as he finally drags a smallish box out and thumps it on the floor.  It sounds heavy and is covered in bright paper.  Isak is blushing as he looks up at Even from his spot on the floor.  He holds out his hand and silently asks Even to come over to where he is.

“So, um, this is probably stupid,” Isak starts, “but I had this idea for you but then I had to get something to help me.  And this is the helping thing.”  He gestures to the gift.  “Your real present is in there too, but it’s kind of … kind of … stupid.”

“Hey,” Even says, sitting next to Isak and pulling him close.  “Whatever it is, it’s not stupid.”

Isak takes a deep breath and pushes it towards Even with his toe.  “Well, go on then.”

Enchanted, as always, by Isak’s insecurity when it comes to showing how he really feels, Even pulls the gift towards himself and makes a show of taking the paper off slowly.  Isak groans and covers his face with his hands, and Even kisses him before he reveals the gift.  Inside is an old cassette player.  It looks well-worn and well-loved and Even grins in delight.  He loves things like this, things that speak of having a history, of having someone who’s loved and used them before.  Particularly things like this, which have no current practical use and so in which Even can delight just because they’re cool, reminiscent of days past and how things won’t always seem as essential as they do right in this moment.

“Baby, this …” he starts, but Isak interrupts.

“In the player.  It’s … there’s …”

“Oh,” Even says, smiling.  He pops open the player and pulls out the cassette tape that’s inside.  In Isak’s fairly messy writing there’s a list of songs.  There’s Nas, N.W.A. and Radiohead.  There’s also Gabrielle, and Cezinando.  Frank Ocean and Jason Mraz.  It lists all the songs that either mean something to them together or that Isak knows Even loves and has made fun of in the past.  It’s a lot.  Even’s throat tightens as he stares down at the small item in his hands.

“I knew it sucked,” Isak says.  “I’m sorry … I’ll get something else …”

“No!” Even’s voice is ragged as he says it.  “No, Isak.  Baby.  It’s so perfect.  I love it.  I’m just a little …”

He can’t say anymore, his feelings threatening to overrun him, so he reaches out to Isak who pulls him into a hug.  It’s tight and comforting, and Even feels the brush of lips over his ear and a whispered, “I love you …”

“I have something to show you, too.”  Even grins at Isak, his eyes still a little watery but mostly composed now.  “I was going to make you hunt for it, you know … like a scavenger hunt but on the internet …”

He waits a moment for the inevitable eye roll and isn’t disappointed.  “Fuck, Even.  I can’t do that shit--”

“Mmmm, yes you can.  But I can’t wait anyway, so … here!”

While they’ve been talking, Even has been searching on his laptop and he finally pulls up the video.  He twirls the screen round to Isak and sits down nervously on the bed, his hands shaking despite the confidence he’s trying to project.  He understands in this moment exactly why Isak was so nervous when he handed his gift over.  There’s something really vulnerable in putting a piece of yourself out there for someone else.  Even  _ knows _ Isak isn’t going to laugh, or ridicule him in any other way, and yet he still feels his hands tremble as he presses play.

The music starts against a black screen, and Isak throws him a fond look.  “Gabrielle, Even?  Really?”

“You’re the one who recognizes it,” Even says, trying to let his breath out naturally.  He’s still tense, but the joke puts him a little more at ease and he’s smiling as Isak laughs.

Then the movie itself starts and Isak watches, his eyes fixed on the screen the whole time, and his gaze flicking from point to point as the video scrolls through.  Even traces every expression as he watches the collection of pictures, movie clips and other things that had called to Even and made him think of Isak.

There’s no dialogue, but the shots are connected in a way which tells the story without words.  Or at least, Even hopes they are.  They start black and white, somber.  The pictures start with an unsmiling Even, but soon color bleeds in.  A flash of a snapback, or the curve of a body as it moves.  The images start to move, Even smiles and Isak comes into sharper focus.  By the end it’s bright color, laughs and joy interspersed with softer moments: a head on a shoulder, a fond smile, a peaceful walk together.  

Even hopes Isak understands.  He regrets the impulse to do it this way, wishes he’d made it clearer.  Isak’s face remains the same as he watches, and Even can’t read it.  He panics, tries to turn it off, but Isak grabs his hand, turns his shining eyes to him and squeezes gently.

“Even …” he says, his voice wobbly.

Even’s lips are clamped firmly between his teeth, and he’s still looking at Isak filled with anxiety.  Isak climbs into his lap and throws his arms around his neck.

“Even, that’s amazing.  You’re amazing.”  He pulls back so he can kiss Even softly.  “Just so you know, that’s my life too.  You’re everything to me--”

“I love you,” Even says, then smiles as he buries his face into Isak’s neck.  They’ve been saying those words so often today, and yet they still hold all the meaning and impact they did that first time.  “I love you, I love you …”

They stay like that for a long time, holding each other before Isak pulls back a little.  “Can we watch it again?  It’s so beautiful.”

Even laughs and agrees.  Isak watches again, just as enraptured as he was the first time, but this time he lets his face show what he’s feeling.  At the end he turns back to Even.

“It’s so good, baby.  You’re really good at this.”

“No, not really, but I’m glad you like it.”

“Even,” Isak says, his voice exasperated as he takes Even’s face in his hands.  “I may not be a pretentious art person, but I know when something’s good.  And  _ that _ is good.”

Before Even can respond there’s a knock on the door.  “Baby gay?” Eskild calls.  “I know you want lots of sexy time with that man of yours but I need some help out here.  This party is half yours, you know.”

“Fuck off, we’re not!” Isak calls back.  “But whatever; we’ll be there soon.”  He starts to climb off Even’s lap while adding at a louder volume, “and don’t call me that!”

They leave the room hand in hand and Even feels stronger now.  It’s going to be a lot of people, and sure they may know about him and some may even talk about it.  But he’s here with Isak and that’s actually all that matters.  They help put the flat in order together, under Eskild’s watchful but ultimately approving eye, and by the time everyone starts arriving it’s all set to a standard Eskild can live with.

He’s on form as host, his Fairy Godmother traits making sure he takes good care of everyone.  Even stands back against a wall, beer in hand and Isak lounging next to him.  He watches as Eskild makes the rounds, a welcoming touch on an arm here, a smile and a laughing comment there.  The atmosphere is warm, and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.  Even feels a little out of it, a little like he doesn’t fit in.  It’s ironic, the sort of feeling Even expects he’d have if he’d grown up as an Outcast.  He thinks back to Isak’s words about them all being Outcasts in some way, and he smiles.  So often, Outcasts have been seen as so different and set apart from everyone else.  They’re misfits, outside of the comfortable life as understood by most of society.  And yet, as Isak had said, they actually reflect the way most people feel; they have probably the most authentic existence of anyone.

“This is nice,” he says, turning to Isak.  “All these different people, all coming together and enjoying themselves.”

“Mmmm,” Isak says, grinning at him too.  “I should go do my duty, though.”

He nods over at Eskild, who’s sending Isak disgruntled looks.  Even can see why; even Linn is mingling with the guests.  She’s sticking to Noora, Eva and their friends.  People she knows and gets along with already.  And yet that’s better than Isak, who has spent the entire evening at Even’s side.

“Yeah you probably should,” he agrees.  

“You were supposed to talk me out of it, explain why I should stay here with you the whole time.”

Isak looks at him, pouting, eyes big and sad in his face. It’s the look Even can remember from the first time he’d had to force his feet away from this place, after the first day they’d spent real time together as a couple.  It’s not a look he’s able to resist, even now.

“Oh.  Well,” Even says, wrapping his arms around Isak and dropping a kiss on his lips.  Because he can, because it’s the best way to remove that look and make Isak smile again.  It works, and the grin Isak gives him is bright, lighting up his entire face.  “I can do that, if you want me to.”

Isak groans.  “I do.  But I  _ should _ go talk to some people.  Don’t want Eskild to get too mad.”

Even’s attention is caught by the newcomers just arriving, and he smiles before kissing Isak again.  “I should go talk to my friends.  You could come too; then you’re helping Eskild and you’re staying with me too.”

“You,” Isak says kissing him again, “are so wise and amazing.”

They make their way through the clumps of people scattered through the apartment until they reach Even’s friends.  Eskild has spotted them and is already swooping in on them when Even and Isak arrive.

“How nice to see you,” he’s saying.  “You’re Even’s friends?  Yes, with the filming.  Very nice.”

“Oh!” Mikael says, his whole body quivering with excitement.   _ “You’re _ the one who was playing with filming when we left the camera here?”

“Hmmm?  Oh … maybe?  I’m not so sure …”

“That was hilarious!” Adam says.  “We could use you in the videos sometimes.  What do you think?  ‘Eskild’s eyes’ - we could make it a segment...”

Confused, Even raises an eyebrow at Yousef who smirks.  “We were looking through the footage, you know.  After we filmed with you that day.  There was a lot of Eskild dancing, making eyes at the camera.  He’s a natural.”  He’s whispering, trying not to interrupt Adam and Eskild, and Even snorts.

“You should have expected it.  Eskild does love a bit of drama; I’m not surprised he was attracted to the camera.”

Yousef shrugs.  “He’s welcome.  It was a good bit of fun and we might even use some of it.”

Isak squeezes Even’s hand, and smiles when he turns to look at him.  “I’m going to go talk to the boys and Eva and that,” he says.  “You don’t want to come?”

Even looks at his friends, who are now teasing Eskild and making him preen, then shakes his head.

“No thanks, baby,” he says.  “I’ll stay with these guys for a bit.”

Isak’s eyes are warm as he presses a kiss to Even’s cheek, and runs his hand over his back.  “Okay.  Have fun,” he says before setting off to his friends.

As he turns back to his own friends, Even reflects on where his life is now.  It’s not perfect; he doesn’t think it ever will be.  But there’s joy and balance now.  There are his parents, with their newfound understanding of what Even needs.  While the peace they’ve achieved now is fragile, Even’s confident it will keep getting better.  Then there are his old friends, who he’s missed with a fervency he didn’t allow himself to acknowledge until now that he has them back in his life and who have made him laugh so much over this last week.  Finally, there’s his relationship with Isak which has occasionally been strained but has overall provided so much comfort and peace, and a playfulness Even has been craving for a long time.  

Even was wrong earlier.  He’s not an outcast, not really; he has everything he needs right here.  His friends, his roommates and Isak.  He finds himself swallowed by the group, their boisterous antics soothing him in a way he hasn’t realized he needed over the last year.  He’s laughing, shoving the boys around when they make jokes at his expense before moving on to each other.  He has a newfound joy in all this; he’s a Puppy, a Beast who’s allowed to want to be like this, and so he embraces it.  

A laugh carries to Even from across the room, and he glances up.  It’s Isak, of course, the sound of his laugh drawing Even’s attention like a magnet.  His face as he talks to Jonas is alight and carefree.  Then he seems to feel Even’s eyes on him and turns to smile across the room.  Even’s heart skips a beat as their gazes connect.  The party swirls on around them, but the room shrinks, and all oxygen is sucked out again.  It’s like the two of them are alone even in this crowd, and Even grins back.  He thanks the world again for sending him Isak.  He’s changed Even’s life in so many ways he can’t even begin to count, but there’s one big one.  One that means the most.  The Beast who once couldn’t find a place to fit in his world has found a home with an Outcast who knows, who always has known, how to help at least one other person to fit in.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're done. Endings are horrible and hard and this has been the most horrible and hardest I've done to date. So I'm a bit relieved but a lot sad that it's over. Once again I want to thank my betas and the people who have helped me with various issues and ideas throughout this. You're all stars!! And also to everyone who's been following along; your comments and interest have been amazing and helped keep me going even at one point when I came close to giving it up. Thank you all for being fantastic <3
> 
> The promised 'infodump' (aka answers to questions and theories people had in the comments) can be found at [this tumblr post](https://evakuality.tumblr.com/post/169760291558/archetype-fic-infodump). It's entirely self indulgent because I was so frustrated at not being able to answer those questions as they came. Please do feel free to ask me more if you want more detail on any of them or just want to know something else.
> 
> I'm going to take a bit of a break from fic writing for a bit because these last few months have been exhausting. But it won't be too long before I'm back with some Isak PoV and maybe something entirely fluffy and entirely in a different world as well. We'll see :D


End file.
